Disassembling the Waking Dream
Sleepy restlessness permeates the clouded mind
And sense vanishes in insomnia, resigned
To the empty bliss that nothingness can provide.
Time furcates ev'ry though. Each second subdivides
Like the molecules in a bomb inside my head.
With a white flash, I detonate the living shreds
Of wasted ideas. They disappear swiftly,
Brushed out by shockwaves. I feel ambivalently
Torn between the impulse and the collapse. What stands
In the labyrinth of ruins—no barren land—
That rattles around my skull? I try to build back
The cluttered landscape that closed eyes see in the black.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Added by Poetry Lover
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