The Wild

I’ve been sleepless.
The sun goes up and down, leaving no tracks in the sky.
I glance at a window and feel little whether it’s bathed in light or deepened by night.
I’ve been hollow.
There was a time when I couldn’t contain myself.
Calm days were so few.
In the combustion of youth, my will was a tangle of strings holding back a woodland thing.
Then, the liberation which led to days without any sleep.
Came a time, it didn’t return.
Now I’m somehow lost without that noise in my ears.
Sitting in my car, driving home, staring out the window, searching.