Nightlife Poet


On the Corner of Insomnia and Insanity
United States

A thought races

Quickly and quietly

Through the trenches of my mind

It lasts only a moment

And it fades forever into nothingness


I turn

Again, as if by nothing more than black magic,

The thought returns

It lingers and begins to fester


As if on demand

Every space, every crack, and crevasse

Are filled to the brim with pointless jargon


I turn

My eyes slowly drift closed once more

The thoughts begin to creep slowly out of sight

All that is left is the quiet


I feel my muscles begin to calm

My pillow, although hard and flat to start,

has become part cloud, part cotton candy

I feel the warm,the rest flow over my body


Then.....the phone rings.

I am awake.


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