Poetry: Untitled

Here’s a poem from years ago. I had some pretty severe insomnia at the time. I used to wake up suddenly with rushing thoughts, sweaty feet and a stomach full of high-pitched nerves. For no reason at all. So, I’d sneak downstairs and write angst-driven poetry between the ungodly hours of 2am and 4am. I haven’t shown any of it to anyone, until now. It’s quite amazing what a lack of sleep can do to a person. I don’t relate to it anymore. Nowadays I feel like I have both feet securely on the ground.


I feel so god damn empty.

So empty, flat and dry.

I feel so god damn beat.

So strung out I could cry.


I’m dust that’s blown and scattered.

And dust that’s gathering.

I’m frenzied and I’m panicked,

I’m soap that’s lathering.


I’m dark brown almost black.

A shadow in the sea.

A concave piece of rock,

Carved deep inside of me.


But I don’t need your help –

Not fraught and needy yet.

But I feel like I could crack,

Like jelly, not quite set.


There’s a hairline deep inside.

A crater growing deep.

I’m jumping side to side,

An ever-growing leap.


The crack is growing wider

The crack is getting broad.

I can’t make it across.

I’m balanced on a cord.


The cord is getting long.

The cord is stretched so tight.

But I‘m balanced on the string.

And using all my might.


SNOW! (10)





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