Fleeting
(Impromptu Tag Topic: Insomnia)


Waking yet
    with fingers curled deep
       bruising the pristine innocence
of my pillow.

I lack
memory of what causes
             blanched knuckles
  to my fevered hand.

Four walls
dingy and of saffron stain
     mock with
their insufferable breathing,
oblivious to my plight.

Here, I seek a lost
    visage, frantic to turn
pages with remnant criss-crosses
 of dog-eared pulp
    in the tome of dreams
where the text is unfamiliar.
(where was I?)

   To my
darkened lids I turn
   finding
       nothing but the
kaleidoscope of green fibers
and the occasional floater
         dancing amoeba
within sightless vision.

I am on the line
to fall again
    I plummet
                    weightless
     back into
fitful sandman's(noman's)land
    visionless, voiceless
with no bookmark.

©1998