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Tell me I'm not this. The blue began to flood
inside a room once painted black. Tell me I don't
see this. The orb of morning peering its start right to
my eyelids that can't even close. Tell me I don't hear
this. Birds chirping for sunrise, playing lightly as my
lullaby. Tell me I'm dreaming. My leg still twitches,
seven in the morning, because I'm afraid I'll lose myself
before dawn. Shedding emotion in fast waves of flight,
tell me I didn't run through time, making stars out
of daylight. Orange in the sky, and not from shy
headlights in insomniac cars. Yellow, making its fellow
opening for my uncomforted sleep, not a nightlight like before,
no. Tell me I'm not this.
All feedback is welcome
jules Aug 2018
oh, rose addicted lips,
cruel and beautiful,
whisper your gentle lies
and ponder;
what do you despise more,
the ache or the release?
lenore Apr 2017
One sleepless night I heard the lark
Chir-chirruping inside my heart;
Got up to find her in the dark
To capture her and set apart
Her stringless resonating harp
On which she played a note so sharp;
My very soul said: "Hark, oh, hark!
What is this iridescent spark

That set my every thought aflame?
For in its sound I heard my name!
That made my ear and eye so changed
That all the world illuminates?
It will not let me sleep again
Until my every breath is spent!"

I looked and looked and looked in vain
But carried with me the refrain
So every time I turned around
The sound was coming from without;
At lenght I closed my tired lids
And heard the lark sing from within;
And this is how I figured out:
I'm not the kindling. I'm the spark!
harlee kae Feb 2014
Drip, drip* goes the rain.
Tears are falling, taking pain.
And nothing ever makes sense, anymore.
I stay up crying in the middle of the night,
My eyes still open with the morning light.
And I still don't have a freaking clue
What I should do.
But I'm hoping someday to fall asleep,
And see this nightmare come to an end.
Everything will be back how it should be
And you'll always still be my best friend.
Khoi-San May 15
cannot sleep
twilights keep
counting sheep
Alexis Jun 19
the way I repel the morning
and make love to the night,
I may just be becoming an
insomniac .
Al Aug 2018
Kaftan drifts as the dervish whirls.  Footsteps heavily influenced to a standstill.  Hands rubbed together, slowly sticking palm to palm.  To sleep is a prayer offered in hope.  The dream is blank state rarely achieved.  Eyes all drained of color, limbs so tired. The mind keeps on spinning, thought after thought racing for attention.  The clock strikes again.  One thirty am... once more sleep escapes.
Jim Timonere Aug 29
The dark heart of the night
Is close around me;
There is nothing to see but what
Spins through my mind;
There’s not much comfort in that

All the fears and failures dance together
At a party in my honor laughing like the old friends
They are not, mocking me they ask,
“Remember me”?

And I do and I feel again what I felt
And another space of my life is lost to it.

I feel the sweat, fists clenched.
My legs jumpy.  
But there’s no one to punch and no use
Trying to run away.

You can’t escape what you
Carry in your mind, and they know it.
So they laugh at me again.

Where the hell is the sun?
Classy J Dec 2018
I’m coming out my coma like a Russian spy sleeper, and I be assassinating these ******* while wearing some fuzzy slippers. I’m a boss, I’m a goat, and if you got a problem with it, imma put my foot down your throat.
Racial profiling defined me, stereotypes and statistics shunned me.
**** my progress before I even start, I can’t even enjoy myself on a sunny day in the park.
All because I hit that racial profiling mark, for the white man only see’s me as a pitbull and aren’t willing to hear me talk,
for all they hear is a threatening bark.
Man that’s ruff!
Better Put em in cuffs!
Better yet put him down before he hurts someone, so I have no choice but to take out my guns.
Grew up with a disadvantage, grew up with traditional racist cultural norms that left me to fend for myself in this garbage. Plus drugs be flowing through my neighbour hood, and that’s the only way you make money and afford school and food.  
So to survive I Gotta do what I gotta do, so why judge me ***** because if you were in my position what would you do? When you haven’t got a chance to prove yourself a winner for capitalism already has decided you to be a loser.
No safety net, nor is there a invisible hand to get ya out of debt.
Gotta fend for yourself in this world full of hyenas, and if there is a God out there why isn’t he defending us?
Internalized designs,
Set up the designs that confine,
That blind us from seeing inside.
Can’t sleep when Im under the microscope.
Can’t speak when people in power have taken away my throat.
Verse 2:
With no one wanting to see things from my lens.
From my scope.
When no one wants to hear what I can lend to make amends.
As they just think I’m on dope.
But This is just the inter-scope of an insomniac.
The reason I can’t sleep.
The reason I’m deemed a freak.
The reason there’s a divide.
The reason why many commit suicide.
Because what’s the point of living,
If no one’s willing to listen to your side.
When no one is willing to acknowledge their privilege.
When it doesn’t matter if your indigenous and proud when society still sees you as a savage?
When your given a one way ticket to prison.
When in all honesty where else is there to go?
With most our language and culture lost and land stolen.
Government has taken away everything precious from us like golem.
And totem pole effects leaves us internally broken.
With everyone believing themselves to be the victim.
And never apart of what lead to the problem.
Internalized designs,
Set up the designs that confine,
That blind us from seeing inside.
Can’t sleep when Im under the microscope.
Can’t speak when people in power have taken away my throat.
elliot Feb 22
The echoes of the beat
And the warmth of the rhythm.
I miss the way the melodic sounds touched my being with every gut wrenching word.
I wish I could go back
to when my heart craved the lyrics of the poet
my eyes bled with their misery;
when my lips would choke in sync
to every chord and every painstakingly high note.
I miss the time when my mind would go to sleep and allow my body to rest as the power of the artist lulled me into slumber.  
But like every natural thing on earth,
my brain no longer desired the music as much as my heart did.
And I,
could no longer enjoy
the solace I had found
in a song.
Jordan Rowan Aug 2015
Midnight just stands there
It watches me with a stare
She doesn't like to sleep
Yet she sleeps with everyone but me

I'm calm as it storms
In this mental fire I am warm
I'm not without but within
As I let midnight in

There's a hollow in the sounds
Resounding through the pounds
Of my insomniac heart  
In the silky black dark

She was made in the light
But lives in darkest night
Solemn and upright
Like a high-end socialite

She makes me feel alive
Before the sun slowly dies
A martyr for my dreams
But nothing's what it seems
agrios Jun 30
i cant sleep
its been hours
its six am.
i dont know
when i woke
from my dreamless
sleep but i
cannot go back
into dreamless slumber.
i cant sleep
someone has been
tapping on the
bed frame again.
i cant hear
my own thoughts
and yet they
seem so loud.
i cant see
but theres someone
standing in the
corner of the
room, i can
feel them staring.
its six am
or maybe its
seven am i
dont know the
time anymore but
theres a girl
knocking on my
closet door again.
the sun hasnt
come up yet
when will it
come up again?
maybe it wont
ever come up
again, or maybe
its gone out
i cant tell
anymore, when will
the sun come
up again?
Prose Nov 2018
The Nocturnal myth , who's eyes never drift into slumber...

Who stays up thinking about Ambitions, Dreams that run in his mind so deep and the price he pays for this is the sleep he can not reap....

Who stays up thinking about the current problems he face , each one like a feature length show in his mind with no means to an end , each one he is trying to amend...

Who stays up , simply because each day goes way too fast and , to slow down the tempo , a couple hours more are required to fully appreciate seeing another day...

Who stays up , since the true aura of his creativity seems to unlock, causing no writer's block,  causing more ideas to flow , with each passing tick-tock of the clock ....

Who stays up, since, just like the owl who actively hunt their prey at night, he actively hunts down his targets , his goals , his dreams  that feed his drive....

But... Even he needs rest, rest to not overthink the obstacles he face, rest to keep and maintain his brain , so new ideas can continue fruition and not starve and be subjected to malnutrition, rest so he can wake to spend time with friends and family...

So rest well , for tomorrow is fast approaching and tonight has reached its conclusion....

Good Night for now.... or should I really say Good Morning ?

Anyways I'm off to bed... Peace.
Hope you enjoy....
Alex Smith Oct 2018
Like an albatros
I criss
Then cross
Lines of red ink on me
And what's the cost?
I keep fighting,
But lost
And cut my ear right off
Like Evander Holyfield
Or Van Gogh,
An artist
Now trust.
And me,
The curse
Who gets worse
The more you get to know him.
Everything I do
Is like a ******* sin.
And life is a pool
I can't jump in-
I can't swim
And then I sink
And think
Of those who can't swim too
In my ocean of negativity
And now dying virtues.
This is my cue
To leave out
And choose
The ones who know what
I'm about
Before I lose
My sanity to clout
And pick a fool
Like me.
A maniac and insomniac
And freak show
To be.
Butch Decatoria Aug 2018

Awake past midnight

An insomniac in a world of sleepers,

Creeps with god-awful


Where’re the dreamers?

I see

Empty minds & broken hearts

Carriers of virulent Dark

Our shadows

Gorging on the world

Our souls

Lost in Oz

Praying to a wizard

Who’s a known fraud.

Fracking a

Way to never-was

We who claim to know



Hand to mouth / hand in glove

The bare-knuckle


Fights to exist

To matter then still better -yet…

Who in this hell knows?

This place is estranged


Can’t wait to see tomorrow

Now that I’m awake

I Just couldn’t wait…

All I want is

Peace on / for Earth - today!

Oh Gaia - namaste.

So yeah...?
Spenser Bennett Mar 2016
She's aimless but she's right on target
Hits you right where the heart is
Cuz she's been around the world and back
She's blameless but she gives me heart attacks
Yeah yeah she's so Kerouac

Told me to take it all and go
Blaze a trail few would ever know
Well I lost my head instead on the edge of existence
I said, "Cut me some slack", and turned right back, she just stood there singin' "You're no Kerouac"

Walking on water wasn't built in a day
The life we're living is nothing but a daze
One mad dream is all it takes
To see that we are one with everything

Yeah, yeah, she's so Kerouac,
Ramblin through the world,
She's seen it all, the town and city
She's just a vagabond girl, spiritual monstrosity, like Neal Cassady, she gave her life to Jack

I was born to be a hero or nothin,
Knew my time was coming
To an end, I went away
In search of better days,
I stared at mountains for months and months, though they never changed, I couldn't stay the same. I am just matter bound by time and space, I saw the end of god, she took his place

Yeah, yeah, yeah, you're so Kerouac.
Pale cardiac rhythm, stood still
Frail insomniac prison, quietly shrill
Yeah, yeah, babe, you're so Kerouac
Poetria Oct 2016
Through insomniac nights
a fuzzy grey mouse and I
coexist under lamplight.

My sleeping routine,
it's far from a dream
but my buddy and me,
we feel free.

He stays in the shadows
Collecting little bites
of leftover dinner to eat.

He comes out at night
and scuttles in this light;
he's put his trust in me.

I honour my promises,
and mice have their rights
so I vow to tell nobody.

So when I can't sleep-
in secret we meet,
my fuzzy grey friend
and me.
P.S When I wrote this, HE SQUEAKED!
Jonathan Witte Sep 2018
I stole my brother’s car and drove to Phoenix in the dark. Bluegreen glow of dashboard gauges, the faint scent of roadkill and desert marigolds. Tap. Tap. Tap. Insects slapping the windshield like rain. How many miles does it take to turn yourself around, to rise up from ashes? Keep driving. Drive until the sun blooms.

Some days were more dire than others. CCTV footage confirms I pawned a shotgun, a Gibson guitar, and my wife’s engagement ring at the pawnshop next to Fatty’s Tattoo parlor. The typographically accurate Declaration of Independence inscribed on my back also confirms this.

I ran the tilt-a-whirl at the Ashtabula county fair, fattening up on fried Oreos and elephant ears, flirting behind tent ***** with the cute contortionist with strawberry-blonde hair.

I derailed in a dive bar.

I disappeared in a city lit by lavender streetlights, where buildings blotted out the stars and the traffic signals kept perfect time.
I picked through trash bins. I paid for love with drugstore wine.

I closed my eyes on a mountain road. The sheriff extracted me from a ****** snowbank.

I holed up for weeks in an oceanfront motel, dazed by the roar of the breakers. Each morning I drew back the curtains and lost myself in the crisscrossing patterns of whitecaps, the synchronous flight of sanderlings above the dunes. I dreamed of dead horseshoe ***** rolling in with the tide.

The moon over my shoulder tightened into focus like a prison spotlight. One night the barking dogs undid me. Goodnight, children. Goodbye, my love. I capitulated to the candor of a naked mattress. I grew my beard, an insomniac in a jail cell clinging to bars the color of a morning dove.

I coveted the house keys of strangers.

I opened and closed many doors. I sang into the stoic mouths of storm drains. I stepped out of many rooms only to find myself in the room I just left. Despite all my leaving, I remained.
A Apr 2015
You make me feel the way a cool glass of water tastes splashing down your throat on a feverish summer day. You make me feel the way the sun clings to the sky up until it's last enticing moment before kissing it goodbye. You make me feel like a long lost dog that has just returned home. You make me feel like a sleep deprived insomniac that has been granted a good nights rest. You make me feel like I am a minuscule bug drawn to your fascinating light. Above all you make me feel the deepest, purest, most astonishing love.
Flower C Sep 11
As a soul I am restless,
For every passing hour my heart cries for it to end,
That may this vessel can rest to sleep,
But my head often in thoughts,
Voicing to oneself as if there's two,
Hauling in pain such of life and living,
Reaping each serenity that lingers,
Leaving this space in me pitch black,
Only to know the definition of ultramarine,
Where everything you see left a blue,
And 'till dusk this cycle of agony,
Mounting the sleepless nights within me.
Molly Jul 18
Ursa Major yawns,
knowing winter will
grant her no rest
nor hibernation,
for sleep does not come easy
beneath the weight of
the cosmos.
Marissa Feb 2018
I’m the shy and the weird and the try to be cute all the time but fails miserably.
I’m unwanted by others and the wanted by some
And the “ignore her she acts invisibly anyways.”
I’m the insomniac and the depressed and the anxiety attacks.
I’m the prey and the predator and the bystander.
I’m the failure and the miserable and the screams for help.
I am one person, and that is myself.
I’m the friend of the man in the moon and the secret keeper and the one not to seek attention.
I’m the not so perfect soul and the not so gifted and the not so smart.  
I’m the sadness in my mind and the happiness around the corner and the mixed emotions left behind.                      
I’m the undecided and the bad influence and the annoying.
I’m the one who has lost all feeling and the one who gain feeling back and the one who makes her pillow catch tears when someone else can’t.
I’m the strong and the weak and the average.
I’m the book smarts and the common sense and the *******.
I’m the one and only kind of me out there and I embrace myself.
I am myself.
A winter storm builds outside my window
I leave it open then proceed to punch the pillow
Only. So. Often.
The coffin
Must feel similar to this
People who refuse sleep
But keep getting buried
On a loop
A pitch black room
Oh so relaxing
Watch me toss, turn, and flap
A billion times across this matress
And now
Delirum becomes a pass time
It's insomniac Olympics
Such a *****,
That I win every time
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