Diary for The Sleepless


Crescent-
1:17am
The night is a blanket; pillows are soft and round like the moon.
Stars glow, they’re orbs trapped inside shut eyes.
Windows, doors, rooms with air: the body is blind without them.
Beds are made from shadows,
the lights never go out, and the darkness is vivid.
I hear heart beats in the walls, old paint chips fall like worn out lungs;
I breathe in their uncomfortable rhythms.
Tossing, turning, shifting back and forth,
the thoughts keep knocking at my head.
Throbbing, pulsing, the pounding is palpitating, ​
it ​sounds like my ears are bleeding.
The nightmares wake me up screaming,
drops of sweat and hot tears leak through my pores.
I know it's looking at me; every sensation I feel is fire burning up my spine.
My hands reach out to touch ​it​,
the feeling of ​its skin is hollow and I fall right through ​its long fingers.
​Its ​nails wrap firmly around my neck and a mouth swallows me whole.
​Its eyes are here in my room and in every room i've ever slept in.

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This Poems Story

insomnia and nightmares