Insomnia

insomnia  by Ash Sivils

I’m still awake
and the ceiling is billowing
and my mind is churning
and my thoughts are sliding down a mountain
with twists and turns and spiky things sticking up
and my heart is playing staccato
and my eyes are small trapped creatures in a box
darting here and there with no escape
I’m still awake
and the light is changing
and my stomach is rolling
and the clock is mocking
and if I could just turn my head off
I could rest
*artwork by ash sivils*

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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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