A Wakeless Morning

insomniac moment

he twitches funnily in his sleep

like puppy chasing 

proverbial dreams

my life is full of jealous tendencies

body mind heart

too weighed down

to let drift loose the moorings of 

reality

into sweet oblivion 

even in sleep 

my dreams are misshapen

awkward things

i love/hate this

beautiful/horrid world 

pregnant with unwanted threats/possibilities

they sit heavy on the horizon

of soul

not setting

and steal more wakeless hours 

aborting

my unslept dreams

miscarried early mornings

Reviews

[Stella]

Great poem! We've all suffered from insomnia at one time or another.

[NightShade]

I found this to be a delightful read, in a style that I am fast growing enamored of. My mind seized on things, as they stood out for me. I will spare you the breakdown and move on to saying that I personally am glad to have read it!

[Reverent]

Overall, a solid poem, yet the meaning is a bit unfocused, though I can't decide if that is fitting given the topic.

An important thing to keep in mind while writing is word choice
This is how the viewer reads the poem, he/she doesn't have the insight and background that you have to fill in any gaps in meaning.

Such as the stanza in which you implement the slashes.
In my opinion, they take away from the poem, instead of filling it in or fulfilling potential where powerful wordplay could be placed instead.

Overall things to think about are:
There is a difference in being succinct and being incomplete.
I felt that some lines in particular broke the flow of the poem (Which can be useful in some cases, but I don't believe that it was intended here)

Also keep in mind to constantly strive for imagery. Like a painter transfers his idea onto canvas with paint we as writers must transfer our ideas with scenery and wordplay.

Take for instance this poem by Federico Lorca

"A tree of blood soaks the morning
where the newborn woman groans.
Her voice leaves glass in the wound
and on the panes, a diagram of bone.

The coming light establishes and wins
white limits of a fable that forgets
the tumult of veins in flight
toward the dim cool of the apple.

Adam dreams in the fever of the clay
of a child who comes galloping
through the double pulse of his cheek.

But a dark other Adam is dreaming
a neuter moon of seedless stone
where the child of light will burn."

Imagery is something a writer can always improve on, and is essentially never perfected.

I hope to read more from you in the future.

[Enigma]

I could seen this being stretched into something more, very insightful and well thought out. I love how the emotions are spread out in this piece. -Amazing read.

This sounds like the beginning of an introspective and emotional monologue. I enjoy this style a lot, and could see you expanding on this but it is very good as is. Nice piece.