Insomnia is when the
Stars keep you up because
they're singing too loud.

It's the ****** enigma
of the ineptitude to
suspend your consciousness.

It's Gods gift to everyone but you,
displacing them out of
the realm of which you fear.

It's how you discover that the
monsters aren't under your bed,
in your closet, or outside your
bedroom door.
You discover that they float in
your bloodstream and sleep
in the pit of your throat -
and you can always find them
in your reflection when you're
brushing your teeth.

You are solitude wearing pink,
I am gravity in black,
ardently seeking,
an elusive something.

*let's walk the winding distances,
search for the hidden that
that counts only for us.

I've learned that failure is subjective
as beauty in the eyes of the beholder
sometimes a hard fall or soft landing
a moth flight against the porch light
or a bruised knee, left on the cement

we all have troubles
personal problems and inner feelings

no matter how alone you feel
there is always someone who will listen

just let it out