Tag Archives: insomnia

Instead of Sleep


The city lights with their artificial amber

blare like a dog whistle all night long.


Don’t ask the questions you’re not asking;

what are answers but the temporal explanations we throw away eventually, or sooner

when we realize over and over again

how *stunningly* wrong we are.


This isn’t the clenched jaw of desire.

These are not the frozen muscles of fear.


I am not waiting for anything but daybreak’s commotion

to disrupt the stagnant so strong

it fills my nostrils with its heavy ozone.


I don’t want to talk, but I need to word.


They call out of their dreams

for water water in the red desert

and I drip it between their parted lips and onto their scrunched foreheads:


I am the sleepless rainmaker,


eyes exhausted of light in the dark-poor midnight.


I am the collarless watchdog,


biting at my own strange ankles

until I’m no longer a threat.