Tag: insomnia

Red Eyes

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Photo by Inga Seliverstova from Pexels

Raindrops dance on my window,

It’s been a while since the heaven wept.

I sink in memories until I’m numb,

I can’t recall the last time I slept.

My mind counts the first morning birds,

It follows each voice I hear nearby.

The bed holds me tight like a hearse,

And life plays as my final lullaby.

They don’t seem to notice the red

Although it’s leaking from my eyes.

I survive on plain water and bread,

The previous night fades into lies.

But the thought of darkness traps me,

The evening terrifies me to death.

If I don’t open my lids, just slap me,

Let me cry until I lose my breath.

Don’t let me sleep, don’t let it slip,

Let me hold onto the red a little longer.

Raindrops knock on my windowsill

And I know that I’m a goner.

-JW

Eight Minutes To Fall Asleep

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Photo by Engin Akyurt from Pexels

The wheels are in motion, I move to the side.

Sounds startle my mind but I still let it slide.

Messages, greetings and formal promotions.

I move to the side, but the wheels are in motion.

An ode to terror, a hymn to my insomniac brain.

I’ll suffer for closure, not gonna let it die in vain.

Booklets, sliding doors and seven errors.

The hymn to my insomnia, the ode to my terror.

Eight minutes to fall asleep, two seconds to die.

Once you pull the ring off, even the heavies will fly.

So I hold myself close, this moment is mine to keep.

Two seconds to die.

Eight minutes to fall asleep.

-JW

April

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Whenever April comes around, I have this need to sleep by an open window.

The air is so heated and charged, I can’t brush it off. I need to feel the wind blow.

The fire in my bones is harsh to my body, I want the power to go out with a bang.

Whenever April comes around, another lover becomes a treat to my hungry fangs.

I’ve been dying of thirst for a cool spring breeze since I was bitterly seventeen.

No psychic wise enough, no fortune teller prosperous enough to crack my spleen –

But maybe a genie in the bottom of the bottle will tell another revolting story.

I wish I could stand up a little bit taller instead of being sorry.

We’re a dying breed, and we’re choking on antimony.

Whenever April comes, my insides throw a funeral – and I’m leading the ceremony.

-JW

Three Moments in Time

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The angriest words I’ve ever spoken are “I hope you die” –

I muttered them to myself like it mattered, in a poorly lit bathroom,

and it all went cold but I couldn’t cry.

Four months prior life stabbed me in the back, and so did stability.

I thought it might get better, but hope is a special kind of facility

which I escaped when my family lost its civility.

Now seven years have gone by, I’m still searching for a peace of mind –

peace that feels so real and unfiltered, like love at first sight,

you know, when your pieces are aligned, everything is so well-timed.

Exactly that kind.

***

Back when I had daydreams so dark they turned into insomnia,

I stayed up reading old books between cigarette ash caused euphoria.

The days felt cloudy. But, I swear, no one noticed a thing.

Coffee and mascara hid the fact that death wish and I had a fling.

Whatever chilled me to the bone was what I loved the most

Because at eighteen I learned that you can’t fix your life in post.

To be honest, this still scares me – yet the time is running out

But it’s not kind to those who mess around with so much doubt.

Time judges – especially what you make it about.

“You tout, tout, tout…”

***

It was two autumns ago I last stepped on the scale.

After 6 years of fighting the numbers got stale,

They didn’t entice me with illusion of worthlessness,

But, damn, they managed to sting, nonetheless.

I can’t recall the last time I called myself unlovable.

Maybe I’ve just become difficult or impossible?

But still intense, caring, true and deserving –

For whatever comes next, I’m still preparing,

I’m learning.

It’s rationality I lack when it comes to forgiving my brokenness.

My worst fear is waking up at square zero, this I confess.

The most loving words I say are “I hope you push through” –

I mutter them to myself like they matter because now I know

They do.

-JW