Insomnia, streaks of self-entanglement

I’m so fucking exhausted!

Insomnia drops streaks of white like snow falling in a hurry.

It’s been dark for hours and thoughts fall heavier by the minute

I’m trying to find peace but instead, my body tightens through the shoulders, fettled by expectation, exhausted wanting to breathe length in my form.

Here I am lengthening, reach, screeching into rest?

There, here, willing out a warning, here anxious memories cloud my fortress, my serenity.

So, I’ve pulled back into my body again.

Down around the corner from where I’m supposed to be,

be perfect or do everything


or be banished to the failure side of self-dissonance,

disconnected, too connected

to myself to feel what terror this section of myself has grounded into this pain, ride it hard because you will fuck yourself regardless of consent

no one gets to choose neurotypicality, they just reap the benefits without seeing how much would change with a spill of neurotransmitters of brain chemistry blown, changed forever

connections soldered by external trauma.

now the terms and conditions say everything’s just fucked now,

it’s harder, it’s always going to be hard to just breathe and live

to rest, to thrive, to avoid the death trapped ruminations, ruminations of a freed heartbeat at rest, outside of the race, outside of your life.

Without consent, I’ve pulled away from calm into the panic of triggered second-hand emotions,

that rev and hum of scattered states of mind, I can’t hide from the noise

pulled into a conversation despite me without, anyone really.

there, the tremors ungulate to the distant buzz of satiation,

don’t waste time running, hmm…

you’re the puddle and the ripples, you’re everything you have and have to be

you’re the bitch you can’t run from

or shame out of existence.

streaks of self-entanglement don’t have to drag you under your own head

can’t find a way out, go deeper, go to bed.


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