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CLOSE / Parnassiad


Peace and Other Stories


Fragments of a Formerly Active Sex Life



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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