Poetry

II. Insomnia

drifting afloat on a legless bedspread

a soft gray ocean of fibers carrying

you out to sea again.

Like driving your car from the backseat

or watching the world from inside your tv.

a brilliant light pierces the ghostly sheets,

breathing in deep the exhaled smoke

in the shadows of my room,

and reflecting my dreams on the walls.

bloodshot memories of happenings that never were,

scorched onto the surface of still open eyelids

searching the past like a textbook

and realizing that the answers

are always in the back,

and how unfair it is that studying always puts me to sleep

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