Insomnia
#5 of Poetry
How Insomnia and staying up to late affects me personally.
Tick... Tock... Tick... Tock...
Never before have I been so capable to be able to compare
My bedroom clock... to a hideous metronome.
A haunting presence
A lingering presence
An all to hideous reminder that,
time doesn't stop
Late at night, on my computer,
clock ticking, IM's chiming, hand twitching.
My eyes narrow, my brows furrow
Before long the tears begin to fall with a pace so clearly attuned
with that hideous metronome.
I cry not out of senseless abject sadness
for reasons unknown to either me, myself or I
I know exactly why I cry at 3am on a weekday night.
I pine for the sleep I can never hope to have
as I look back on a bed so lovingly made up for me by my brother
as he says
Goodnight.
A contorted smile
Is cause enough for him to think my actions suspect
and wonder aloud
"Why is my brother sad?"
The conversation is unchanging
"No worries, I'm fine. Just tired"
"You've been tired a lot"
"Just hard work"
How could he not see the obvious lie?
Regardless, He soon departs.
Tick... Tock... Tick... Tock...
Before too long my face is buried on my keyboard
till once again I collapse
and find myself awake moments later
No Sleep, No Relief
From this unrelenting pain.
This unending state, where days and dates
become nothing more than numbers
reduced from a sense of time
to simply that of
a sense of loss.