Insomnia
by Marc Sobel  /  poetry  /  17 Jul 2007
There are nights
When my sadness hovers
Like strands of fog,
Opaque coils of pain
With blue-gray tendrils slashing at me
Scratching at the corners of my eyes
Crawling like worms through my heart valves
Wrapping like barbed wire around my ribs
And clinging like ivy to my heart
On these nights
Sleep lies further
Than the end of the universe
And my ears tune like huge satellite dishes
Dissecting every single sound vibration
And the stars throb inside my thoughts
Echoing screaming voices from years past
And my shoulders clench up like fists
My legs are knotted and gnarled tree limbs
Every cell reflects back at me a prism of pain
All focused on my defiantly closed, dry eyes
A river of sadness barricaded and dammed
And I want to scream,
And hurl my fists at the mirror
Tear pictures off walls
Kick out all the windows
And flip over the sofas
Fling books from their shelves
Shredding their meaningless pages
And rip all my hair in tangled, bloody clumps,
My blood boils and my mind
Conjures endless violent fantasies
But instead I lie, helpless, weak and timid
Afraid of unleashing my anger
For fear that it will consume me
And drown me like a tsunami
Or overcome me like a hungry lion,
Devouring everything I have worked for
The precariously constructed house of cards
That is my life
Leaving me with nothing,
Not even the satisfaction of release
Only regret, and despair
And isolation –
Just like my father.
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