Cradle the poison

Insomnia has been my company for more then 12 years

The smiles and the bubbly atmosphere,
Thought I was safe.
When I pushed the door of my apartment,
Darkness and silence greeted me again.

Sleep, sleep.

Suddenly the wave was back-
Anger, dejection and humiliation.
Like the woodcutters wood near his feet,
My grief’s rush in to be buried beneath.

I cradled my bottle of rum.
Silence howl filled the air.
The poison dripped,
My eyes still in oblivion.

Sleep, sleep.

It was a far cry.
The fear within me, for me.
I slipped and I surrendered.

My scattered wrist
-Last to glance.
The thousand cuts blurred
Yet, I breed their new kin.

As I grabbed another bottle,
I watched as the blood dripped.
Fiery red and tempting-
My sympathy cried out.

Sleep, sleep.

Sweet sensation soothed my wound
Tears streamed down, yet I smile.
The howl deafened by weaken throb.
And I cradled the poison.

The years rolled back in,
My lashes got the dipped
I jerked and stopped the flow,
Yet, I fretted and cried
For, tomorrows night’s battle awaits still.

Reviews

[.]

The slitting of wrist and drinking of rum show your despair .. and i loved the imaged inserted in this write to make it gloomy

"My scattered wrist
-Last to glance.
The thousand cuts blurred
Yet, I breed their new kin."

Great write!

[Robert Francis Callaci]

This doesn't seem to me to be about insomnia at all. It looks like an attempted suicide- cutting of the wrists- the sleep sleep sleep of death calling- washing away the pain in a bottle drifting off to the sweet oblivion of death. At the last minute " I jerked and stopped the flow" but the pain lingers on and tomorrows battles still to come.

Very powerful stuff -articulated well- good gut wrenching poetry- excellent word craft- This didn't feel like a rushed poem at all- well thought out, good flow and a good style.


my warmest
bob

[Tomás Ó C..]

Unfortunatly the rum will never cure the depression. Enough of my fmily tried that...

Everything, starting from the very title, was powerful.

the intensity, well set.

Good write.

[Diana Owen Busy with Li..]

what an amazing write.... great details... I know the feeling of insomnia, thank god, it has passed now but in a month or week or two, i will be right here on the computer at 2...3....4...5...am writing....

[1809 Black Plague Decem..]

very disturbing detailing. Hope you don't hurt yourself and are just metaphors. :)

--mishy

[Yu Yu]

Fellow insomniac!
"And I cradled the poison." -- I know how you feel. I loved the fact that it has a child-like perspective on things in the beginning with "The smiles and the bubbly atmosphere,"... and continues with cradling of the bottle. Yet, it comes back to the whole struggle of sleep. And we've probably lost that since childhood. It's almost as if the poet wants to return to that age of innocence. Before the struggle, before the insomnia, before 'awareness'...

[Phil Sanders]

How poignant .. and how sad .. so powerful.....

[Gary H]

Clever the way you have become drunk on insomnia in this. The images are blurred at times, blood red at others, making the thoughts stand out as difficult to sleep with and realistic because of that. There seems to be a fine line between dreams and reality and how you can bring yourself into the world of each one - this I think comes across here. In some respects this is quite disturbing and I like the style you used here.

[Amorphlux]

The idea of the poem is nice but the style i really don't like it, i think u wrote this poem in a rush, he still needs modifications: about stanzas structures and rhyme.
I suggest drinkn' more bottle...b'cause the idea behind the words is wonderful.

I'm acid and i belong to INSOMNIA GROUP.