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Insomnia Concerto Sensoriale

3:27am  
I’m awake
like the sun  
with only  
the moonlight  
keeping me company;  
words flow  
grow  
they know  
I need sleep -  
eyes full of sand  
but a mind full  
of patterns  
colors  
shapes, unidentifiable  
at least until  
I look them up  
in the light  
of later today  
 
converging melodies  
written upon  
the shifting amalgam  
~of thoughts~  
too many to detail,  
colliding in their hurry  
to pique my interest,  
showing off to grab  
my full attention,  
all equally self-important  
which is to say,  
all equally unimportant;  
~married to sound~  
the slightly warbled,  
off-center sweep  
of the ceiling fan,  
the manufactured tin rain  
trying hard  
to make me believe  
from my pretend-noise box,  
the faint electronic hum  
of a life fully plugged in;  
~infused with smell~  
the stale ghost  
of the cigarette  
I smoked,  
sitting cross-legged  
on the floor  
beside my open patio door,  
the frosty air  
tempering my fevered  
rumination,  
the sweet undertone  
of nag champa sticks  
to which I’m currently curating  
a curious addiction,  
the acrid lingering  
of forgotten chicken  
from an unremarkable  
dinner  
 
a sliding symphony,  
they all perform at once;  
music composed  
from the numbers  
on the antique wall clock,  
round beats  
with squared notes  
low, voluptuous bass,  
lips pressed to skin  
in a smooth soprano swing;  
light dances on the letters  
that spell the numbers  
as they pass through  
my mind  
like strategically scattered  
street lamps,  
approaching and fading  
in that frenzied way  
they seem  
when driving home  
from places  
you shouldn’t have been  
and stayed in  
way too late  
 
my orchestra  
is delightfully defiant,  
refusing to listen  
to the tap! tap! tap!  
of my conductor’s baton;  
instead crowding their heads  
together,  
they conspire to create  
a collaboration  
of my brain’s misfiring  
and the resulting harmony  
haunts me  
it’s beauty mathematical  
logical and yet ethereal,  
it’s barely contained chaos,  
and it’s formulations -  
equations I don’t comprehend  
yet feel as familiar as family,  
float languidly  
above my head,  
breaking my heart once again  
for what feels like  
the millionth time  
that I can’t share this  
with you,  
this Concerto Sensoriale  
majestic in its presentation,  
it’s beauty compels tears  
to jump to their deaths  
in the hollows  
of my cheeks,  
but I’m the only one  
who will ever  
know of my masterpiece,  
played in the soft light  
of a million stars  
in a cold, clear sky -  
keeping me  
awake  
Written by LunaGreyhawk
Published
Author's Note
Insomnia + Synesthesia = Concerto Sensoriale
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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