Dreaming Insomniac

My breathing diminishes

slowing my heart,

only as much as to simulate sleep.

This is the rest I receive.

A sort of pseudo sleep,

a feigned unconsciousness.

As the body lies in stasis,

like purgatory.


Awaiting sleep, or rousing movement,

the mind is wandering

subconscious pathways.

Through childhood games and

avenues of angst and rejection.

Through unconditional love and grace,

to the present.

I skirt the halls of captured moments

and sit on the stony growths

of ill will and stubbornness,

dangling my feet in the waters of infinity.

I look upon an eternal sky,

lit with the light of things

burning brightly far away.

Some dying and receding,

some just being born,

announcing their arrival with brilliant luminescence.

Ideas in the firmament of the psyche.


A droning buzz tells the ears

to tell the mind

it is time to return home,

from its long journeys

along the streets of reminiscence.

The cool, grey dawn and a new day begins

with figments of memories and days long past

feeding my present with meaning.


HG – 1995-2000

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