What did you learn this year?

insomnia is like walking to a bar with no seats

and not getting the bartender’s attention,

standing a respectful distance from the patrons

seated at the bar, an unwelcome visitor

invisible enough to know only their clothed backs

perfectly ambiguous, your intentions apparently

not clearly announced with your mere presence,

the obviousness of the full seats and your body pointed barward

not enough to stop the walls inching in and

your brave little heart pushing back like an

outstretched palm held firm saying stop right there

you itch and fidget and time warps in on itself

like melted glass and you wonder if while standing silently,

feeling all this, your friends are burning holes through your back

with their eyes, the whole bar a Russian doll world

of blank eyes and cold backs talking

about how incapable you look stranded between

social registers, never telling you for fear of your fragility

until you finally make eye contact

and get your water

the algorithm feeds me inspirational Instagram

posts about risk and I wonder: how

will I ever unlock myself even holding the keys when

crossing a room is an odyssey

you all have your lucid values and convoluted schemes

and all I have is my rogue heart