Insomnia
by method of falling
into sleep I count the things I’d trade
-would I die
for sleep?-
and in multitudes they rise
like the inverse of all the mysteries
within a world’s deepest ocean,
a world even bigger than our own.
and in this multitude of things
I cannot find you because
our collective moments are tailor-made
by whatever powers that be
for lucid dreams echoes
of nothingness that overlay
the noise, frost of a winters’ night
that glistens as it strokes your skin
so beautiful it can kill you dead
and you’ll think it was worth it
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