insomniacs on parade…

temporary solace, or 10 lines strong

i’ve got no apology to share
after another unsuccessful
attempt at desperately desired
salvation. tongues & teeth are
dutifully engaged; a
disastrous combination of luck & lick,
unsuccessful resolution of such beautiful/
angry voices injured by their own
weapons of assumption. our morning
meeting fell into ambiguity
& a lasting breach of civility; mourning;
we were casualties of each other.
i was assured we could heal
only when separated by enormous
figurative distance.

i wandered
home looking for safety,
kindness; yet found them totally
unrecognizable. this home
eerily emptied of metabolic life
& man-made sound
sucked life from the walls,
echoes down from the ceiling.

i set the proper course;
a goal in mind to salve
spirit & fortune.
within two lines of an unnamed
home-made concoctions,
i am confidently positive,
worth every scrap of love
not yet committed to
a more permanent union.

such a pronounced effect
on my reflective-mirror persona
became possible through
application; i know the secret
potions, i can do the conversions,
each item naturally
synergistic & adding to
my confident outlook;
of course you’ll see me.

by line number five, i’m flying;
really flying together
with the you still part of me. through sticker-
tape parade snow, the bathroom
mirror tells me “you’re
looking too good to play Eleanor
of Aquitane.”

as the last lines disappear,
you begin to ricochet around
my ribcage, occasionally
making an appearance only
millimeters from my outstretched
fingers. coming from my own
absolute denial, this proprietary
mixture has me feeling good.
the lines reform into a picture
of your smile, and until I wake up
alone yet looking for you laying next to me,
limits of a dream become
that much more real.
until i awaken without your heat
warming the mattress & pillows,
i chase the chill of your shadow;
hoping against hope
for your eventual return.

even as a bulletproof superhero,
i can only dream
symbols of eventual
rejoinder; can it be more than coincidental,
like two separate paths meeting
at some central point? my sanguine eyes
will greet the morning alone; the remainder
of my late night mixture is
workin’ through my arteries & veins,
still persuading me
of last evenings solemn wish.

the smoke starts to clear by early
dawn, yet
you are nowhere to be found.
tonight, ten lines say i must
continue my faith in your cause.
loaded, twisted vision and pudding
playing the role as my mind.
on it is you, same as ever,
beautiful beyond description and
out of sight & touch.

with any luck at all, your soft skin &
countenance will eventually show up.
i just need you to know that somehow,
i’ll always be on the lookout,
hoping to see you dance
while every other woman
simply walks.


Dedicated & Inspired by someone wonderful. When we are being consumed by flame under no ones control, there is nothing that can be done except to ride the wave and hope the shared existence grows to encompass everything beautiful and everything kind there is to experience with her. It took quite a while to learn that; now I’m limited to hoping it isn’t too late while wondering if I’m reprising my role from an earlier movie filmed years ago and thousands of miles away.

Now it’s 5 a.m. and that makes 6 nights in a row. How in the world am I supposed to stop seeing nightmares and feeling the spinal pain so much more intensely when my eyes are closed? What it takes to gather that 3 hours is not worth the work. Besides, lately if I don’t see the sun rise, the fear of everlasting darkness begins to creep in. It never really happens, but it should illustrate my razor’s edge margin for error in this strange set of circumstance. )


4 Responses to “insomniacs on parade…”

  1. You are really quite amazing. What will you be like when life is as it should be – makes me smile just to think of it. Perhaps letting go of the need to be “on top of things” for now would help you to sleep.

  2. brilliant piece.


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    follow this link, read the instructions,
    have fun reading others while sharing your own poetry.

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    Happy Wednesday!

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