Friday, March 29, 2013

a disappointed insomniac's mental poetry

lucid dreams and insomnia.
that has been the past few nights for me.
today, 430am, wide awake, i got up, showered, got some coffee, and off i went.
i didnt know where i was going.


sometimes though, you just need to get in your car and go, drive in the blackened morning until the sun starts to pierce the midnight blue sky.  drive until you find a lonely side street in which to park your car and begin the mental escape.  sometimes you need to get out and go watch the world awaken.

but how ugly the busyness of the morning hours really is.  headlights chasing 9-5 dreams....for money
and things.  hatred for the cycle of what "is" and "has to be" begins to drown out the hopeful poet in love with solitude and quiet. 

slowly your body starts to succumb to the chill of the early spring morning.  the coffee that was meant to warm your hands is now tepid and no longer providing any solace but merely is a liquid to moisten your lips.  your thighs begin to numb and the faux fur lining of your winter boots does nothing but cushion your feet as they pound the pavement.  bikers tell you you're on the wrong side of right, but as the path narrows with ice and snow, you realize it's time to turn around and head to "the comfort of home."

what a joke that statement really is.

your lungs ache from the cold morning air and your thousandth "last cigarette" as your pace quickens.  you dispose of your empty paper cup and stare at your red, wind chapped hands wishing you'd brought some mittens or had a gloved hand to hold.  as your body slowly begins giving way and is nothing more than a hypothermic palindrome, it suddenly feels like your car is parked on the other side of the moon.

the sky gets brighter.  the romanticism and endless poetry of being alone with your thoughts has lost its luster.  morning looks so ugly alive with the working world.  your insides crave irresponsibility and adventure.  the heat of the car to warm your feeble fingers enough to type the rampant ramblings of your insomniac mind is heightened by sight of the hour at hand.  time to run.  reality is calling. 

i thought, perhaps, i would find some beauty in insomnia and watching the world come alive, but all i found is that the world is so ugly wide awake....
onto cartoons and cereal.

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