They say insomnia is really
A dream of being awake
A sort of sifting and filing
For sanity and order's sake.
It can't be true,
Can't explain my aching head
As I toss and turn
In the wreckage of my bed.
Ideas floating through the mind
Demanding attention, a mental fight
Mixing dividing mixing again
In the misery of an insomniac night.
Twisting and turning
Each an unconnected thread
Wriggling and sliding
Through an aching wakeful head.
A mind that won't shut down
Controlling and keeping
In its ruthless thrall a body
Screaming out to be sleeping.
Projects launched and then
Just so very quickly lost
With the desperate search to
Recover them, the mental cost.
Words of dubious genius
Just sliding off and away.
An endless night that doesn't
Ever seem near turning to day.
Suddenly it's morning
And it's time to rise
And face the world through
Sleep deprived eyes,
The unwritten works of genius
Now missing from mind sight
To lie in ambush to wait
To destroy yet another night.
I stumble through the day with
The gradually increasing dread
I'll snap wide awake to face
Yet another sleepless bed.
So, please don't tell me,
For heaven's,
That I'm only dreaming
That I'm awake.
