Consciously causing unconscious chaos
A poem about lack of sleep
consciously causing unconscious chaos
In all her 27 years she had never remembered a time that she remembered her dreams. Now each time she closes a lid longer than a blink, she is thrust into a scene that continues to play with her eyes wide open. And she’s not sleeping, not one of these nights does she lay in the darkness and get the same peace and nothingness that they call rest. At first she thought ‘it’s cause I’m off the weed.’ That happens sometimes—vivid dreaming like your mind is celebrating. like your imagination was yawning and its lungs are finally full. But it’s been months now and she’s beginning to think ‘someone is fucking with me.’ Let’s see how she does with no sleep, no rest, no satisfied cat-like glorious stretch in the morning. Let her be delirious and try to take words and make sentences that reek of anything but circular definitions. Let’s alter her day with a feeling of pain, substitute any pleasure with a longing for things that haven’t occurred anywhere but in her head. Let her toss then turn, pace and stand still, with a pen in her hand but no paper to be filled. Someone is fucking with me. Someone who doesn’t like beds or pillows or blankets or the bliss of an unneeded (yet wanted) cup of coffee. Someone wants me to remember awake, the nonsense I sleep to forget.
Yes...it’s you