"insomniaddict" poems
azure eyes with tinges of grey
worn from a dance with the night
hair wild, could be wind-swept
but no, only bed-swept
through the tossing and turning
her hair strangles and tangles itself
the sun does not wait for her to wake
she waits for the sun, achingly
as the dark slowly devolves to light
knowingly the pattern repeats and continues on
the familiar sequence brings a sick sort of comfort
she needs something to smile about anyway,
"and it's always nice to see the sun rise."
Mar 28, 2010
Mar 28, 2010 at 6:23 PM UTC
5 in the morning, the room grows brighter
My heart is pounding, the room grows brighter
Dehydration, over-stimulation
Caffeine withdrawals make me feel hollow
I can’t sleep when I’m lightheaded, it's too easy
The room grows brighter
My eyelids grow heavy
My breathing grows heavier
My heart remains heaviest
Good dreams never come like this
Dec 15, 2012
Dec 15, 2012 at 9:17 PM UTC