insomnia

What keeps you up at night?

Sometime a little before midnight
usually within the hour when
all is quiet and the window streams in
a 90s movies honeymoon crimson,
you wonder.

how is death recorded
in the registers of the mind
(or love, even life for that matter)
where memory and imagination
fraternise, get entangled, lose themselves
in fluid boundaries that
your sense of self is made of,
create un-create re-create
a version, a reality (the reality?)
that can find no validation
outside of itself.

Mornings will bring squirrels
and mynahs and the comfort of
attested narratives.
in the familiar lull of insta lives,
metallic rages, unremembered promises,
moral subjectivities and other day noises,
you can rest and sleep until dusk
nudges you to expected wakefulness
and thoughts of certain uncertainties.