Mr. Insomnia


This is how my mind flows in the wee hours of the morning especially after a day or two of no sleep. In recent months, I binge on Netflix series and watch it till I see the sunrise, then try to get some sleep and hopefully not waste the rest of my day. This one was during the times of binge-watching 'The Good Place' and listening to this Alison Wonderland playlist. I performed this piece at Oral Fixation's second last show in Sceni in 2019.

I remember seeing your constellation mapping the journey through each and every fabric of time

It's being, the sensations of the logical thinking

brief fleeting memories

flights of insomnia strike laced with glory and salutations

Glorification

Instant menial solitude of solitary blacks cascading into chanting reactions and stairs of tumbles and ruffles like wind and carcasses that feel like butterscotch rain and Thundercats pains the Wayne's of destitute seeming in a tad wonder and tranquil burning and lustre silver slivers and slivers tickling the ridges of my spinal cord and its firing in chain smokers and fireworks musicality and precision distinction and marked exclusion in true immortality and existing.


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Birth is a curse and existence is a prison (quote from 'The Good Place')

Birth is willed to be the start of life

Threaded with blessing and weaved with curse

Existence without realisation of purpose

A sentence defined by prison bars, grey walls and isolation

Willing is the soul of a life long search

Starting from the splitting of nuclei

Heartbeats lacing thread with bloodstreams

Blessing nutrients as fuel for the undertaking

Weaving in one memory after another

Layers of affirmations to what life means

Realising truth in simultaneous simulations of survival and struggle

Purposeful and accidental discoveries of the availability of choice

Stringing words to sentences to express the innate desire to exist

Bearing weights and drifting on bar tops like spilled whiskey and skidding ice.


Every shade of colour is tainted grey

A gradient of the absence and presence of light

A waltz of isolated skipped beats and ungrateful banter brings no rest to the soul

Search parties for missing meaning scurry through waves of places and people

Found and lost again in a split second

Lines drawn one by one, in pairs and again and one fallen from its core

The barricade around the nucleus compromises for change

A heart altered by the beating of mistrust, misguidance and misfortune

Bandages of lace can't heal these fabrications


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I lay here, trying to cover myself with fabrics of comfort

The comforts I find in Netflix series like 'The Good Place'

A place I have been longing to find for the past 5 years

Yearning for some comfort,

Just enough to falls asleep

To be able to slumber in the party of dreams for at least 5 hours

Our lanes cross, wires fired, cables labelled with thoughts of uncertainty

Extension cords of plug-ins that remind us of the tasks we have yet to complete

Dreams yet to materialise

Goals yet to be scored

Yet my procrastination monster sits beside me, watching me, eating popcorn

Prodding me to lie down more and stay down

My company for the night that I have conversations with is only with you,

Mr. insomnia and Ms. Procrastination.


- Swit Marie

04:25H 4th December 2019
Purgatory



Swit Marie is a 'Jacqueline of all trades' who loves wearing plaid
When words fail, she allows movement and emotion to carry her through
A believer in making dreams come true, she would love to collaborate with you
An explorer starting fresh and would only give her best
She stands in the gap and will only call it quits when it's a wrap.

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