Ode to Insomnia

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: October 02, 2018

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Submitted: October 02, 2018

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I stare at my bedroom ceiling like

I stare at white clouds overhead

And try to guess their shapes,

Sometimes seeing the fanciful simplicity

Like unicorns or those cookies I ate last week,

Other times seeing my life

Spelled out in the most unsettling

Fashion through small keystrokes that

Build up to this bigger plot

That I’ve never really been able

To get a grasp on,

Like sitting at my typewriter for

Hours and weeks and months

Coming up with the next word,

Rising into this heightened state of being

That isn’t nirvana but the

Cousin of enlightenment that you

Don’t talk about at family gatherings,

This endless cloud my brain rests on

As it traces the grooves in the ceiling,

As it stares at the unfinished product,

As it wonders, “how did I get here,

And where did the years go,

And what became of Patrick,

And how did Alisha’s marriage turn out,

And what would have happened if B didn’t die?”

Stories and stories and stories

That can’t ever be told except

In the whispering of the

Ceiling pictures

And cloudy skies,

Forbidden by the endless night

To ever be laid to paper. 


© Copyright 2018 Sarah Grace Taylor. All rights reserved.

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