Insomnia

that night I was in love

world swirling with obnoxious oxymorons

deafening colors

sounds that don't really exist.

everything was the same, I recognized every wall.

kisses tasted like cigarettes and cigarettes

tasted like eternity.

We spoke of things quite inconsequential considering

the two crescent moons dancing over our heads.

and when he stabbed me in the gut with that crystal dagger

(or was it a kitchen knife?)

from within emerged a horde

of butterflies, but in the dark they looked like moths.

I stood there

bleeding wings, a flurry of colors

(or were they shades of gray?)

I died, but then

I woke up.