Infinite Sheep

A reflection on insomnia as hypnosis

By Ashley McMahonPublished 2 years ago • Updated 4 months ago • 1 min read

As lightning strikes my thunder cloud eyelids,

dreams laden with heavy rain

repeat reels I reason keep me sane.

Trapped,

gathering grains of silicon sleep,

this static soul sits,

sifting sands,

drawing dreams of distant lands.

lucidly inhabiting imagined isles,

learning muscle cannot lift sleep

just as sleep can’t count infinite sheep,

open my eyes to darkness.

There I,

in the stillness of silence,

begin to feel my bounded edges

released from inner violence.

Aspiring writer, lackadaisical poet, disappointed idealist, formerly gifted child.

Trying to unlearn the lie of wasted potential.

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