Nuclear Core/Saga of Insomnia

The saga of insomnia ends on a cliffhanger.

The armageddon comes but leaves something alive in the aftermath,

in the dirt, in the river canyon worn away by centuries,

yes, we’re still

going somewhere post-anything,

still spinning and expanding

with the universe.

Everything the light touches

makes you bigger, you know,

like your shadow

slow dancing at sundown.

So just listen to a video game’s survival guide

and you’ll make it out okay,

just type until the sunrise

and you’ll

have lasted another day,

just keep reading

about people

who make you wanna cry

over happy little lives

and the armageddon post-stress won’t reach you there

in your bunker of thoughts and headaches–

you know, I’m telling this story all upside dizzle,

maybe we should start right up at the big bang blue:

if my head were a universe

it would expand in the twilight hours,

filling with entropy

and it would hold a million suns with humans’ names

slowly dying

and it would have a lot of shadows and crashes

on unforgettable, icy worlds

and some of these comets would burn for your memory

and dreams would drag me on voyages to true, deep space

but I’m scared of those voids of nothing

nothing

nothing tying me down or telling me where to go

so sometimes I try not to sleep

and pretend that way

that I’m more than just a speck in a bigger universe outside my bones,

that I have more control over my unconscious body

than a planet has to repel a star:

this is my cliffhanger night,

I am a planet

sleep is a star

and it’s slowly

pulling me in

and will eat me

and I’m falling