week forty-one: insomnia

I am plagued with the curse of insomnia. I found this in an old notebook of mine just a little while ago and had forgotten all about. I imagine that it was written at about five in the morning during some sleepless night. It's another poem and it sums up my experience with the matter quite well. Have you ever suffered insomnia? Let me know.

-- WA Ross




Home after a long night
Finally, finally home
Nothing going right
Not at all

Getting tired of putting
up with all this
so much
too much
for
one
man
to handle

Feels like the
weight
of the world
rests
solely
on my shoulders

And there's so much to do.

Climb in bed
mind racing
mind goes here
mind goes there
everywhere

stop

stop

stop thinking
just rest
sleep

There's nothing left to do
tonight

Sleep
Go to
sleep

That song
that one
you like it
not your favorite
but
it will
not
stop

the questions asked
some you want to
keep forever
others... you
just want
to kill

And the
whole time
you just
want
to
scream

But you can't
you're trapped
between here
and
slumber

One
two
three
four
five AM
no rest

eyes open
eyes close
eyes squint
nothing but
wakeful misery

Quiet! Silence!
I want
nothing
more
than sleep

The dawn creeps
No!
No, no!
No!
Is it too late?
Too late to rest?
Yes.

Yes, because
you know
that tomorrow's
misery has
just
begun

Seven AM
you give up
you give up

Can't think straight
What am I doing?
Who's in the mirror
with those bloodshot
eyes?

The dark circles
can't be me
but it is
but it is

This is insomnia
This is my life
welcome to my
personal
hell.