Insomnia ~ I’m Losing It
Wait, wait, wait ~ you said that you loved me. No, that was a dream? Oh, but a beautiful one! Did you mean it when you whispered it hot and fast into my ear? Were you really there with me on the beach in the mountains? The pictures move and over lap so quickly I can’t keep up. Movie reels, silent films with white noise so loud I hurt. Dreams that made my sleep so irresistible now haunt it so that my eyes burn as my brain continues to open them. Your skin, my tongue ~ open them! Your smile, my laughter ~ open them again! Sit up! Sit up! Sit up! Each time not realizing that sleep even came, each time the sickness of this lack of sleep burning like acid down through my chest.
The sound of the phone, are you awake, too? "Shit! Are you out of your mind, baby, baby - it’s two in the morning!" I laugh, it’s three and I can’t sleep. "Looks like I’m not sleeping tonight, huh?" I’m sorry, does your insomnia have my name? Do thoughts of me inspire you to such rare greatness that your mind and body simply CAN NOT stop? These things you do to me, my insomnia has your name. My fingers they hold the pen so tight that writing makes my back hurt, they fly over the key board so fast that they can not keep up with themselves and they long for art, smeared paints and dusty chalks that stain. At night when I lay with nothing but the buzzing red lights of my gray and black alarm clock ~ which chimes a sound that would look like crystals and has the world biggest snooze button ~ at that night time, my hands empty, under my head, folded over my chest, where ever - they flinch with the need to keep moving, they want to worship you. Scribble a senseless letter of how badly I need to feel you, a poem or sketch of how you make me feel. Dial your number so that your voice, small and filled with sleep, will let me feel tired, will let me exhale ~ so that I may sleep vicariously through you. When you stay on the other end of that line and smile, I can hear your smile, you drive me crazy. It’s your voice and image, as the days ~ endless days that darken but never turn to night for me ~ draw more out from you. You talking of how tired you are and how you need sleep but do not want it right now. Makes me wonder if our magic could fix this siamese twin insomnia we seem to share. If your sleeplessness bears my name as my eternally awakening does yours then could we not find a way to give the other rest? With you I am relaxed, I am still as I watch and think in awe of you. With you is the only time that I am not consumed with thoughts of seeing you again, that I am not trying to find the most beautiful words to give to you. With you when I rest I could sleep, I could sleep forever or longer with you. I could write you such beautiful stories that your dreams would come to life, I could touch you in ways that would warm you beyond warm and then you could sleep. I would hold you so gently but you would know that you were safe ~ would you want your sleep then? Could you even try to with hold yourself from the sweetness of that special night world where you are the king? If I invite you with me and you take me there I know we would sleep ~ why then would we ever wake?
The sound of the phone, are you awake, too? "Shit! Are you out of your mind, baby, baby - it’s two in the morning!" I laugh, it’s three and I can’t sleep. "Looks like I’m not sleeping tonight, huh?" I’m sorry, does your insomnia have my name? Do thoughts of me inspire you to such rare greatness that your mind and body simply CAN NOT stop? These things you do to me, my insomnia has your name. My fingers they hold the pen so tight that writing makes my back hurt, they fly over the key board so fast that they can not keep up with themselves and they long for art, smeared paints and dusty chalks that stain. At night when I lay with nothing but the buzzing red lights of my gray and black alarm clock ~ which chimes a sound that would look like crystals and has the world biggest snooze button ~ at that night time, my hands empty, under my head, folded over my chest, where ever - they flinch with the need to keep moving, they want to worship you. Scribble a senseless letter of how badly I need to feel you, a poem or sketch of how you make me feel. Dial your number so that your voice, small and filled with sleep, will let me feel tired, will let me exhale ~ so that I may sleep vicariously through you. When you stay on the other end of that line and smile, I can hear your smile, you drive me crazy. It’s your voice and image, as the days ~ endless days that darken but never turn to night for me ~ draw more out from you. You talking of how tired you are and how you need sleep but do not want it right now. Makes me wonder if our magic could fix this siamese twin insomnia we seem to share. If your sleeplessness bears my name as my eternally awakening does yours then could we not find a way to give the other rest? With you I am relaxed, I am still as I watch and think in awe of you. With you is the only time that I am not consumed with thoughts of seeing you again, that I am not trying to find the most beautiful words to give to you. With you when I rest I could sleep, I could sleep forever or longer with you. I could write you such beautiful stories that your dreams would come to life, I could touch you in ways that would warm you beyond warm and then you could sleep. I would hold you so gently but you would know that you were safe ~ would you want your sleep then? Could you even try to with hold yourself from the sweetness of that special night world where you are the king? If I invite you with me and you take me there I know we would sleep ~ why then would we ever wake?
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