INSOMNIAC—A Poem by Sanguine Woods, 2018 (+Poem Comment(s)


O, the blood-encrusted thoughts!635dbbf5-8d6c-4521-b2cc-54c803703cd7
whirring like blades, wheeling
and whining through
the ambushed mind—unhinged,
does one pray to be emptied?

Sly half-truths; those
brazen whole-truths, eyes
like coals
low to the burning.
“‘Tis the hooded chill cloaks the fever!”
Old Wives’—
you know—
smoldering blue at the gums;

tooth and blade
chew, then whirrr,
then chew—
through the indigo watches
of the night.


(C)2018 Sanguine Woods


INSOMNIAC is a poem I am especially fond of. I think it’s because the poem is so honest and raw and painful–three of the spectres which haunt the real insomniac, among others (I’m not so sure I want to ever see those Old Housewives who “smolder blue at the gums”!). I have for the past year off and on been a slave to the vilest insomnia. One evening when I was at the end of my rope, I called out to the darkness of my midnight bedroom. I can’t explain it any further than that–I am not one to be superstitious. But I asked it why I couldn’t fucking sleep. This poem was its response.

(Image credit unknown. Source: Pinterest)

3 responses to “INSOMNIAC—A Poem by Sanguine Woods, 2018 (+Poem Comment(s)

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