Confessions of an insomniac

“The night is the hardest time to be alive and 4am knows all my secrets.”
Poppy Z. Brite

confessions-of-an-insomniac

trying to
make sense
in the darkness
when words
rummage
through
my mind
irrational
notions
accusatory
tones
teasing
and spinning
in silence

tranquil sleep
evades me
rampant
thoughts
go berserk
entangling
themselves
in my dreams
and
my eyes
gaze
on the abyss

my wishes
are too deep
to be noticed
the moments
too illogical
to grasp
blissful sleep
is elusive
I’m held
captive
and
sanity
is lost

wide awake
I speak
to the
darkness
there is
no light
in the room
the call
of a night bird
calms me
and
my inner
distraction
stills

dawn breaks
morning
beckons
something
new
becomes real
insane
memories
fade
into
insignificance
coherent thoughts
appear

suddenly
day is
extended
essential
sleep is
required
weariness
inhabits
my person
words
to myself
become
kinder
and the haze
of madness
subsides

©

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