insomnia by Hallie

It’s quiet here 
& the birds have stopped their 
call, probably to sleep for 
a few hours, which i carve 
into my mind in the luminous red
numbers on the clock which read
too late, too late, too late ​

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the creeping tick-ticking of the pipes
in the walls begin, then cease, 
begin, then cease, 
a cycle of every seven minutes, 
which i count inside my head &
calculate the hours lost 
i would get up & turn on 
the light but each time i sit up 
the drowsiness washes over 
me like a wave & then i 
wonder why the rest has 
not yet come, i imagine the 
quiet outside, a late-night worker
though none as late as me, i 
look at the clock again 
& it’s been twenty minutes, 
i have school tomorrow, 
the thoughts pour into me & 
finally i give up & concede to 
just laying there, eyes wide open, waiting
for sleep, waiting for the moment my
eyelids droop closed, the twilight walls
bathed white in moonlight, should i
close the curtain? plug my ears? i roll
over in my bed & the covers twist &
tangle, 
ringlets & ringlets of forever coils,
binding me in chains too hot, 
then too cold, then too hot again, i
pray but my mind wanders,
i have a headache, 
i switch the light on to go to
the bathroom, listen as the
obsolescent floor creaks, 
lightheaded & ghostly, until finally,
when the first bird calls 
& i reach a trembling hand to the
nightstand, the clock reads a blur
& in a half-dream i realize i am
finally 
asl 

e 


​e

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Hallie is a Chinese-American writer and a sophomore in high school. She uses writing as a way to make sense of her own life, and the world. Her work has received numerous awards from the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards. Outside of writing, she enjoys debating philosophical topics with friends, running, and creating digital art!