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Literature Text
The land of Insomnia is a dreary world, full of bleary-eyed Insomnians who drift through life in a haze. Their limbs dragged down by exhaustion, their minds clouded over with pain, it's all they can do to drag themselves into work every day before sitting in front of mindless drivel for hours on end when they get home. Social lives are unheard of. Proper entertainment is unheard of. Anything beyond mindless drivel would require a concentration that they just don't possess.
There is one story, though, that has been known to perk up Insomnians when they first hear it, to the point where they could almost pass as excited. A legend of long ago, its origins lost in time; it tells of a thing called Sleep. A magical spell that, after being cast on an Insomnian, causes them to be refreshed; to be filled with vigour; their eyes to open fully for the first time in their lives; the cloud that fills their minds to be lifted; and above all, to be alive in a way they've never known.
The story varies with each telling, but in every one there is a ritual to be followed in order to cast the spell. The beginnings of the ritual vary from hot baths to hot chocolate to soothing music to good food and alcohol to the smell of lavender, but it always ends the same way - with lying down on something soft and simply closing your eyes. Insomnians throughout the ages have tried every one of them, and every combination of them, but none with any success.
There is one story, though, that has been known to perk up Insomnians when they first hear it, to the point where they could almost pass as excited. A legend of long ago, its origins lost in time; it tells of a thing called Sleep. A magical spell that, after being cast on an Insomnian, causes them to be refreshed; to be filled with vigour; their eyes to open fully for the first time in their lives; the cloud that fills their minds to be lifted; and above all, to be alive in a way they've never known.
The story varies with each telling, but in every one there is a ritual to be followed in order to cast the spell. The beginnings of the ritual vary from hot baths to hot chocolate to soothing music to good food and alcohol to the smell of lavender, but it always ends the same way - with lying down on something soft and simply closing your eyes. Insomnians throughout the ages have tried every one of them, and every combination of them, but none with any success.
Literature
On Writing
all the words
all the senses
all the dirt and smell and roughness
the bursting heart
fresh cold water
CRASH of waves and then the ache within
trickling nothing tears and itching legs
all these things
someone wrote them, a bit.
How can you tell anyone
else? How can you thrust
the living today
into someone else's soul?
This is just a nut in a banana leaf.
Literature
In the Syllable
...then there is a way in diswaiting.
Dust some yellow sand covers,
here uncover bare bedding.
...suffusing red planes, blushed dunes,
under incidentally quilted blanket
wet as arid curves, as sounds.
...in a persistent pavement,
in a solemn unsuited promise,
some written words erase
some letters drip and soak
unto a perfuse miracle,
a dislocated split,
a letting go of...
Literature
Metro poems
I. "Art Museum"
modern persian miniature on white leaflets;
a maze for lab ants.
II. "Kaiser in Paris"
a deadbeat in front de Franche-Comté;
patents for toilet paper.
III. "in Dingle"
the earliest casualties drowned at night,
driftwood in wilted, Irish fields.
IV. "The Mistake"
August 27 2012, an elephant awoke;
in Tampa, Florida.
~MK
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Sleep: It's a myth.
There is no plot to this because that would require concentration and I thought I already pointed out that I don't have that GODDAMMIT WHY ARE YOU QUESTIONING THIS?!
There is no plot to this because that would require concentration and I thought I already pointed out that I don't have that GODDAMMIT WHY ARE YOU QUESTIONING THIS?!
Comments9
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Sympathy. But thumbs up for ready-made answer!
ONE WOULD ALMOST THINK IT WAS A CONSPIRACY
ONE WOULD ALMOST THINK IT WAS A CONSPIRACY