Insomniac Fantasies..

I suffer from deep insomnia.

The kind of sleeplessness which is beyond frustration and tossing, the loose limbed helplessness in bed, a sprawled devastation of caffeine : the sense of sheer and utter sensitivity to one's mind: the isolation of both memory and thought as organic, living processes which flutter and flicker in the insomniac night behind our still open eyelids like old movies; pale shadows on screens of skin


And as the day dawns you slip into a daze of half sleep, half wakefulness.. The thin boundary distinguishing the real & the unreal, prevaded by dreams.

The sense in the limbo of a dream, the half-alive REM flutter of one's motor-nervous response to dream stimuli.

The sense that the fleeting touch of a cool and dry female hand on one's cheek received from a woman long forgotten but reasserted and dredged from muscular - perhaps some core of emotional and sensual knowledge embedded as flesh not thought - recollection, is more alive and real than anything we experience in the waking world.

After a while you grow to love such a state of existence, when the sleep maiden has spurned you countless times, you find solace in such a state....