Insomnia
I've been letting sleep rest on the backbeat,
Measured in an irregular pattern.
Dreamless, my mind seems to be incomplete,
Receding like a light in a cavern.
My tone is no longer as dynamic,
But my stresses are longer—suspended.
My thoughts are pitch, as if the chromatic
Spectrum of my ideas were blended.
I don't feel my pulse. Has it gone away?
Consciousness accents itself at random.
I've been looping from day to day in a
Syncopated circadian rhythm.
I'm disoriented while time's tempo shifts.
In a senza misura trance, I drift.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Added by Poetry Lover
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