We-somnia

In the yellow striped house of a sleep deprived mind, we-
iners on the stove. Boiling and roiling with the days, real-
ity blurred like water mixed with engine cool-
ant. Time and space become wea-
risome. Everything changes, thoughts seem left-
over, bright colors flash like the painted walls of a school-
room. Found in the rooms are we-
aponized super cats-a-lurk-
ing in the halls of your mind. Sleep becomes a late-
comer, arriving only in the late we-
ekend of the night. Isomnia strike-
ing out, right out. We-
t paint dripping down the walls, mix-sing.
A bright flowing symbol of the escape from the dark, Sin-
ging to the pills floating in the paint, tainting it black. we-
sternized medicine coursing through veins within.
Mind collapsing, thrown into the trash, week old gin-
gerbread. Sleep finally comes like a cold wave, we-
arily collapsing into bed. Jazz-
y tunes echo through the house, spring comes to june-
au.

Sun ignites the dark corners of the rooms in mind. We
wither between the four walls of the house. We die
while the sun rises over the dark mountains in the surroundings,
but hope has arrived to this city we will sleep again soon.