I am a Broken Camera - or on Insomnia

My friend, I can not sleep.

My friend, I can not sleep for twenty-six years by now.

My friend, sometimes I wonder whether this will end, if I´ll die awake, eyes open.

My friend, I have tried many things.

My friend, sometimes I breath. I try to be heartbeat, to be current, to be stream, nothing but utterly living present, forgetting future fears and past disaster.

My friend, how can I gather air, like she belongs to me, like I belong to her?

My friend, sometimes I take tranquillizers, orange pills on sweaty pillows, I try to force a door open and another shut, I hold my body captive, gun to temple, temple of chemical induced catharsis – but my mind does not surrender. The pills dissolve, a warm fuzzy feeling filling my fingertips, a cup of tea in the icy Atlantic.

My friend, what do you know about drugs?

My friend, sometimes I try humour. I laugh like a lunar eclipse. I tell jokes no one gets. I play parody on my pranks, am my own parrot and parrot possessor, professor of puns, ambassador of deseriousising seriousness. I come charming but unarmed, wielding only my humanity against the insanity of this storm.

My friend, can you make me laugh?

My friend, my brain is a bee bitterly buzzing, a lost moon orbiting emptiness, a fucked up cauliflower without some kind of storyline. I think. I think, think, think around and up and down and reach nowhere but yesterdays embarrassments.

My friend, how does one stop thinking?

My friend, I try lying upside down, head to ground and feet to clouds, I thought this way I could turn things around, but the horizon remains a straight line and I have a hard time finding rest with all the blood in the wrong places.

My friend, do you ever change perspective?

My friend, I sort my food by colour, eating only blue as the clock strikes eight, blueberries, blue plums, blue lobster, blue ice cream, blue cheese, blue pencils, blue milk, blue grapes, but the only noticeable effect is a slight shift in hue glowing through my skin.

My friend, do you eat blue?

My friend, I watch the weather report for secret signs of betterment, but only rain as far as one can see and fog as far as one can reach, a slushy soup of stagnation, an insult to every sense of aesthetic.

My friend, what do you think about gray?

My friend, objects appear bigger when they are turned shadow. Every hour is a desert to be crossed on a dark ark, to be slipped through and sailed against, nothing but water.

My friend, have you counted the grains of sand in a desert?

My friend, I am afraid to look at my phone. I am afraid to be late, to sleep, to wake, to be diagnosed defective by definition of measurement.

My friend, I how does one step outside of time?

My friend, sometimes I watch you sleep.

My friend, sometimes I watch you breath. How you draw in the air, like bringing the ship to shore.

My friend, how can I breath? How can I breath the day away like it doesn´t mean battle?

My friend, sometimes I watch you sleep and I am jealous how light-heartedly you close your eyes, like nothing bad could ever happen.

My friend, are you not scared?

My friend, I have spent many nights alone.

My friend, I have spent many nights alone, counting the countless hairs on your chest. I never finished. I always got lost.

My friend, do you know how many there are?

My friend, how many?

My friend, I have spent many nights alone, wondering why you can not hear the storm, while my ears are bleeding, injured colour, hurt light, operation of a soul failing to feather.

My friend, have you ever slipped your hand through a crack, uncertain whether it would come back?

My friend, sometimes I watch you sleep and I get angry.

My friend, I fantasize fire. I want to burn this building and likely the next, I want to rampage in the rubble until it rises and falls back up into gods ghastly grin.

My friend, have you ever been to hell?

My friend, the devil smiles at me. He´s chill. He knows I am easy to play, he knows it does´nt take much, he knows i´ll break.

My friend, I haven´t broken yet.

My friend, I talk to my house plants and ask them for advice, but they have little to say, rambling on about bloom and blossom and bright nights in May.

My friend, which is your favourite flower?

My friend, maybe I was born into the wrong species. Maybe I am a deep sea ocean anglerfish, floating through a timeless darkness, needing to be my own light.

My friend, do you like animals? Which is your favoured kind?

My friend, maybe I am an air plane. The reason for the delay is a technical issue, the wings are covered in a thin layer of ice. It is winter now and we are working on spring. Make yourself comfortable while waiting. We wish you a pleasant stay.

My friend, are you afraid to fly?

My friend, maybe I am a broken camera, unable to shut, taking in every crack in the ceiling, every wrinkle in my damp sheets, every single little thing, everything against my will.

My friend, do you still make art?

My friend, every morning bites the bitterness of darkness, skies like rose apricot cheesecake.

My friend, do you ever wait for sun to rise, just to catch the fresh light?

My friend, nothing gets lost, every new day collects the scraps of yesternights adversity. I count my fingers, still here, I count my toes, my legs, my eyes, my breasts, my ears.

My friend, nothing gets lost, they are still here.

My friend, it is five o´clock in the morning and I can not sleep.

My friend, I can not sleep for twenty-six years by now.

  • My friend, do you think that this will end, that I´ll die awake, eyes open?