at red digits
on the alarm clock
slowly going crazy
as I tried to fall asleep.
I turned around in the bed,
trying to find respite
down at the foot board.
I read books trying to become drowsy,
but wound up ripping them apart and
smashing them into walls
when the effort proved futile.
I left the red digits behind
as I moved into another empty room
and tried to sleep in the bed there.
My mind kept bending, contorting,
edging out nearer to the abyss.
It must have cracked at some point while
all alone in that house
with no sleep at night for months on end,
only here and there
catching a few winks during daylight hours.
It was a nasty time in my life.
I think I was insane for awhile,
but, being alone, it is difficult to say for sure.
It was an awful experience,
full of sadness, anger, Crown Royal
and suicidal depression.
It was a rock bottom hell pit.
I don’t remember how or when,
but eventually it must have ended.
I think that is basically
how life always happens.
Insomnia by Scott Thomas Outlar
4 thoughts on “Insomnia by Scott Thomas Outlar”
Reaching deep…into the turbulent void!
Reblogged this on 17numa and commented:
Thank you to Dai Shotter at Your One Phone Call for publishing “Insomnia” earlier this month. A poem of reflection upon a time so long ago…
Been there..that storm of emptiness leaps out at me again from your poem..