Words from an Insomniac still trying to find her way

This Small World is Suffocating

This anxiety will get the best of me.

I am only 36. 

Can you believe this shit? 

Pardon the language but my hands are in control 

and my mind is telling them which way to go, 



I sit in this public library 

surrounded by strangers who just wanted to get away. 

From work

         from life

                from death

                        from themselves. 

Wait a minute, this sounds like myself. 

Today I would run if my legs permitted me. 

Cut up the credit cards

give away those stuffy work clothes 

sell almost everything 

pack a small bag and close the door. 

I already have a willing spouse. 


I don’t sleep

           barely eat

                   hardly even remember to breathe. 

I don’t call this living, would you? 

What if we drove off into anywhere,

nothing holding us back? 

We are childless (by choice)


                       reckless in a good way

                                  Isn’t this a great resume?


I read 3 to 4 books a week 

just to keep my mind awake, 

away from the anxiety I feel

when the lights go out. 

This isn’t healthy and it’s starting to show.

I’m sure it would go away once we were away.

And my 3 to 4 would become 1 to 2.


It’s hard to breathe, I do nothing but think,

What if one day all I did was dream?

Write it all down, let it all out

To dream is to try where we think the most.


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