I cannot seem to gain a wink of sleep
As I lie here and will my eyes to close.
Admittedly the prospect is quite bleak;
Consciously searching for some slight repose
When darkness is when my minds thoughts expose
Themselves, seizing the chance to smash together;
fleeting insights come and abscond in droves.
For my mind know no fair nor pleasant weather.
A harmless storm, but all my thoughts are feathers.
I'm drifting off, but the storm, still it roars.
Benign as it may be, it's quite the tremor
When the rain of four-a.m. decides to pour.

When I awake perhaps I'll some recall,
Or likely, I'll remember none at all.