Jealousy injures us with the dagger of self-doubt.

Jealousy hyphenates love in all the wrong places.

I think about you constantly, whether it’s with my mind or my heart.

Three o’clock —
anxiety, regret
in the depths of worry
swept away in the
whirlwind of nothing —
a horrible nothing.

Sleeplessness comes when my thoughts outweigh the night.

Two in the morning
mind humming from the inside out
thunder across crazy dreams
a night charged with god, heart, body,
thinking about how much I think.

I’ve had such bad insomnia the sleep cops have issued a warrant for my rest.

I’m an insomniacaholic
if there is such a thing
well, I know there is —
I am one, and their king!

The only cure for writer’s block is insomnia.

A poet is an insomniac
and always writes best
by the light of a midnight candle.

Awake until 3 A.M.
hard hours — in the dark
anxious shadows lingered in my imagination.

Insomnia is invisible
but hard as concrete.

For insomniacs, night steals the morning.

Once the lighthouse is seen, the rest of the sea is ignored.