There is a
light bulb inside
my head that stubbornly flickers
on and off; on and off; on and
creating an unsatisfying half-sleep
– a no-man’s land –
some way between consciousness and unconsciousness.
All of my worries and wants for the future reside there,
crackling electrical currents that conjure both
a beacon of hope
and a garish
A.N. I wrote this poem at about 2AM on a Tuesday morning. I couldn’t sleep and thought writing might be a solution to that, seeing as it would help to empty the contents of my buzzing brain. As it so happens, writing this poem didn’t solve my sleep issue, though I did get a decent piece out of the situation.