Insomnia, you know, that unbearable feeling? @ 12:41 AM

Sometimes I lay still, full attention on the capacity of my lungs to rise and fall. Sometimes I can feel the passing of blood through capillaries, so I close my eyes and imagine life. There’s this shape I can’t quite make out in the darkness of five am, but I know it’s there, because sometimes all you can do is feel when all other senses fail you.

There are cracks on the ceiling, spelling out messages my mind’s eye had once seen. Cobwebs have collected in the most desolate corners of my mind, places where spiders spin and spin and spin intricate patterns that imitate capillaries- fragile and tragically beautiful. Empty rituals that break the habit of mindless thinking…the taunting ticking of the second hand of his face, faster, faster…the cold side of the pillow ceases to exist…cotton suddenly starts to feel like the weight of the entire ocean…

I don’t know what force can keep me up so deep in thoughts of…nothing. At two am, I’m waging war against the seven minutes that promised deep deep deep slumber. At two-fifty nine, my mind refuses to accept the birth of another digit. Minutes pass like hours. Sometimes I can feel the ceiling crashing down, frustration building up and pushing it away, like helium balloons rising to the atmosphere, exploding for the desire of the sun. The walls have mouths, whispering in indiscernible tongues, and the vibrations are bouncing off my chest, so that I need to harmonize my breathing. I am walking the never-ending corridor of time, passing through door after door, creating shadow after shadow, then I realize that I am the light at the end, and I am burning.

Labels: contemplation, Random, Short Stories