insomnia

sometimes i like to look out of the window

when i have no sight

my glasses on the sill

nothing is clear

lights blur and pulse

circles of colour

it is quiet

a world not fully made

like i’ve followed the mice through the door

an unfinished reality

i stare at the city beneath me

and at nothing at all

cars now little moving blobs

traffic lights frozen green

twinkling in the distance

blurred train filled with yellow light

snaking up lazily at quarter past three

there could be anything else on the tracks

and i wouldn’t know at all

aren’t things much simpler?

when the eyes only recognise

faded glows