Sleep, Or Lack Thereof

You would think I’d found the answer to the Universe with the way my brains teem and squirm in the mixtures of mmm… lack of sense or sleep –

That is, assuming the Universe is even a question.

Is it the sparkle of the delusions, how they float and twinkle above your head and beyond your comprehension, that leads distortion to be hailed as genius?

Or is it really beyond your grasp.

Does the assumption beget the reaction?

Or are we all just quite untalented, unabashed poseurs?

(Like nausea, how it swirls!) Oh, but how sweet the spin is. I could let it go and float to where I could be, wherever I may be. Allowed is not a concept, the permission is for the seatbelt, the feat that I might never come back.

But some are built for that unrestricted whirlpool. I hold, grasp and clasp tightly to the safe belief that I am not.

I am much too attached to my comprehension.