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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2018366
by Chaos
Rated: E · Poetry · Melodrama · #2018366
An elegy to insomnia.
Every night it's the same damn thing. I lay me down and close my eyes. The world outside slumbers around me and yet no matter what I try sleep does elude me. I've tried the remedies. I've tried the medicines. And yet every night is the same. I'm tired and yet awake.

I crave sleep and I find none. My thoughts are mine and darkness borne. I bide the time until the dawn. Every minute drags on like an eternity and yet I feel the hours racing by. Soon I'll need to wake and face the day a new. There is nothing left that hasn't gone askewed.

In the dark of the night a thousand thoughts do rise, like thundering horses across the sky. Of plans and fears and things left undone. Sometimes I fear I may be the only one that feels this way. The weariness sets in, draining the life from off the world, and just as that blissful shadow falls upon me, I do think a new. Thoughts give rise to thoughts and ideas to ideas.

The perfect answer to a million little problems arising from the gloom, and with it my gaze once more. I am given an ultimate choice, pursue the deep and lose the key or take the key and lose the deep. Countless times I've reached the crossroads and chosen poorly. That sleep does avoid me is a well-established fact.

So here I lie chasing shadows in the dark. Was that creak a board or was it something else? Was that the wind or is it someone rapping at my chamber door? Did I lock the lights and switch the door? Was that shadow there before? I sometimes wonder how it would feel to awaken frozen with someone standing over me.

These thoughts are poison unto a tired mind. I try to sleep and still I wake. Wondering if I should learn to bake. A sleepless mind does ramble so. On and on and on it goes. Chasing its tail or tailing a chase? Sometimes you need to stop and wait.

As the night grows early, you cannot let your clock be your master. The numbers are deceptive. They lie and lie and lie some more. In the time before lights man did not sleep as he does now. I've made uneasy friends with the hours of none. To sleep. To die. To leave it done.

Let the mind read and leave it to dream of worlds and marvels and sights unseen. I've been here now and I'll be here again, chasing the sleep that does not beget me. Just close my eyes and let it take me.

Oh, wait, I need to know of penguin knees and buffalo seeds. The thoughts are here and now they're gone. Morning may hate me, but it is only the night that knows me. These thoughts and doubts, they see right through me.

I just want to get some sleep. And still it eludes me.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2018366