If writing about music is like dancing about architecture then writing a single sentence about insomnia is like trying to contain the mice that scrabble my walls in a gilded picture frame except the mice are my thoughts and the walls are my skull and the only thing gilded is the sunrise that I see morning after morning and I’d like you to go ahead and print this out and tear it in half so you can feel the frayed edges and picture me cleaning up all the mouse shit it took for me to get it to you.
Brendan Gillen is a writer in Brooklyn, NY. His work appears, or will appear, in HAD, X-R-A-Y, Expat, Cosmonauts Avenue, South Carolina Review and elsewhere. You can find him online at bgillen.com or on Twitter @beegillen.
image: MM Kaufman