My Synapses twitched to look upon Insomnia from this angle...

Thinking becomes profound on the lands called insomnia. 

It's terrain full of unexpected souvenirs.

Those souvenirs, unforseen as retained, return they oft do.

Without warning, they spike, and spin. And then gone as

quick.

Yet when gone their shadow lingers, less vivid than the spike,

and yet as disturbing, leaving only when you reach the stream

called sleep.