*Tic tac*
Parasite noise, from deep in the pillow,
Echo of a silence that seems to mellow.
A needle on the clock drags in a line,
Provoking a racket, a sound so divine.
Like the tortured victim of a drop of water,
This clamor steals my thoughts, growing hotter.
They, who jostle to escape the rest,
Which I’ve not found since my waking quest.
This state of drowsiness, sometimes so cold,
Listening to faceless figures, bold.
A slide into surreal’s twisted reign,
Where trends match only their odd refrain.
When it’s not the worst to wander so,
Down a path of petals where soft winds blow,
Consciousness lost in unconscious find,
A sheep strays in time’s shifting mind.
I wake up.
What time’s the bell?
The second hand hasn’t moved, oh well.
Was I even asleep at all?
I can relate. Life long insomnia
Just emailed a post to you, which is not allowed by the rules of Substack – i forgot. Gots a damn good memory only its very short.
Synopsis: Start a group of artists presenting own work for analysis
All Art leads toward emptiness/enlightenment.
Example: https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/644987-we-shall-not-cease-from-exploration-and-the-end-of
Submit your work, if you want, to galesalfred157@gmail.com for constructive analysis, which i’ll post in Substack, Wednesday’s, for all to see.