Love And Isomania 

There are not many things that can scare you 

when you have insomnia. 

Just like the fact 

that there are not many things 

that can put you to sleep,

Exactly like the fact 

that there are more things 

that can keep you awake. 

Like the side of the bed 

that is always either too warm 

or too cold, 

keep shuffling, 

like the sound of fan, 

switch it off, 

like the light 

from the phone charger, 

put it out, 

like the collar of your T-shirt 

that grows small on you 

once get into bed, 

get naked.
The first symptom of prolonged sleep deprivation is usually 

color blindness. 

As though to tell you 

that your memories 

can be less hurtful 

with lesser colors,  

as though to tell you 

that the blood on your wrist 

after the 3rd cut is not red but grey.

I once painted my brother’s drawings of flamingos 

with the color green.

I once took 3 hours 

to find a baby pink scarf 

for my best friend.

The past is always bright 

in gay colors.

No wonder we build our castles 

on shifting sands

and here I am

trying to repaint the past 

with a white that is diluted 

to look like water 

with a cotton swab for a brush.

I hate the color green 

mostly because I can’t see it anymore.  

It is scary of how much I can hate 


that I remember so less of 

and yet never for once 

remember why 

I began to hate it in the first place. 
If remembering is your problem 

stay awake a little longer,

Listen to the noise inside your head, 

a piano someone is playing 

with a hammer for fingers.

That my love is the sound 

of your brain cells dying.

That is them choking themselves with their dendrites.

That is them killing the parts of your brain 

that keeps you alive and not the parts 

you would trade with the devil to help you forget.

That doesn’t scare me either.

I once walked right past home 

and didn’t recognize it for the next 3 miles.

I once mistook my phone for soap 

wondering why there were no bubbles.

I’ve walked into traffic too many times, 

I’ve been hit, 

I’ve been yelled at 

And have almost killed

I think my brain is trying to kill me, 

Giving me an easy way out.

That should scare anybody. 

But that doesn’t scare me.
I’ve stayed awake long enough 

to see my worst fear take shape right before my eyes. 

To listen to the voice of my dead friend, 

to tear away all the curtains in my house 

because they remind me that someone is going to die, 


I’ve hallucinated my way through depression. 

I know that this weight of sleep 

that I’m holding off on my shoulder under my baggy eyes, 

Under my weakening knee will drop over me one day.

One day when I’m riding my bike 

in the cold December winds 

and the helmet gets warm like home 

and the road looks a lot like my bed.

And all the sleep will come down pouring 

like a building rigged for destruction. 

My blood and brains will be graffiti on the pavement.

I know that death will come to me that day.  

But that doesn’t scare me either.
The only thing that scares me is that 

I can lie next to him and close my eyes 

and sleep like an infant 

with my lips still in his chest buried. 

Like a lost sheep rescued by its Savior,

Like a guilt that found its pardon,

Like the storm between our nostril.

That I can for once forget to think, 

if I’m alive or dead or decaying.

Will someone tell him, 

this is as close I can ever get 

to falling in love.

And that scares me!


2 thoughts on “Love And Isomania 

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