insomniacy; a poem

brainwashed; outside damaged instrumental playing cats howling my brains out

‘‘starry night’’ Van Gogh painted this in Saint-Paul Asylum

the night is only but a blotch on a coarse page

melting of ink, a lightless silk string of stars

chalk light seeps , slowly, slowly

alas ! if only droopy eyes recieved ! and

—

as time passes, so does his fatigue, drowning, drowning

invisible laughter plagues him, reminiscence from before, intense,

ditched songs, embarrassing seconds, everything

dead and buried, suffocating with dreams

he sees and weeps,

forlon faces , tears and melancholy notes,

he can hear the electricity in the stone walls

screaming,

eyes painful, and, in his forehead a bomb ticking … tick… tick

—

remedies do more harm

capsules colored, pain is red,

in a drugged coma , as his haze

shifting, changing

his head a cluster of jagged stones,

his lunacy might live for another night ( though it is near he won’t )

—

his foe will always be the light

spiraling through the blinds, slowly slowly,

his head a black hole of rail-road spikes

or speed breakers

up down, up down.

—

could it be? he murmurs,

rest or perhaps the end … ( he is mistaken, once more ),

poppy colored pills do him no good,

whilst the white death is nearing

he can hear

cheerful chatters,

and people, blue eyed

blind, brainwashed, baffled

by the flash of dawn.

---

erm shadowbanned on substack but ig that happens after not writing for a whole aah year sorry guys and ifthis is crap i wrote ita while ago it was in my drafts lowk...

if ur reading this (highly unlikely ) ILY AND UR WORTH MORE THAN ULL EVER KNOW!!