Poetry | Journal

Insomnia

Nicole Jean Turner

I think the worst part of insomnia has nothing to do with the lack of sleep but everything to do with the obsessive hunger for everything that is innately inappropriate. It’s 1:00 AM, and I desire cupcakes filled with hot fudge and topped with waffle style French fries. It’s 2:00 AM, and I desire a lap dance from a Russian mail-order bimbo that ends with deep self-reflection of my financial situation. It’s 3:00 AM, and I desire to get in a car and drive as far east as the tank will go, forget about my life and job here and become a nomad. A gypsy. What’s stopping me, I don’t really know.

I do not just desire these things though, I crave them. I toss and turn and ache for them with spiders crawling underneath my skin, begging me to get up and get them. It’s…