How the past hides beneath the skin,
Burrows into the brain, gnaws at the soul,
Recalls my painful past, darkly remembered-
Waking dreams becoming all so real in sleep
When the mind is frail, open to memories, becoming a
Great and terrible grief in the heart;
Nightmares that rob sleep and leave dark
Shadows across my waking life.
There is a terrible ache within me,
Deep, dark, sharp; a small death that occurs minute by minute
Each day, every day without end.
I keep busy, filling my day with small tasks,
Keeping the oncoming night at bay until
Sleep over powers my body, demanding an end to psychic pain.
I know not my bed; my pillow is a stranger to my head.
Like a small child, I fight against slumber,
Fling the night from myself,
Fearing above all else, the torment of sleep.
Neither alcohol nor tranquilizers dampen the
Raging heat of mind nor quench the ache in my soul.
I would gladly die for one single night of forgetfulness.
Sometimes, I seek death.
Is it the end of life, or is only the root of
Eternal memory, a reliving of all that has brought me to this end?
How I seek sleep, deep, dark, without dreams,
Devoid of self, deathless until the day’s beginnings.
Sleep eludes me. Memories clash within my soul and I am
Sleepless. Each new day mocks me.
I wake before the new dawn.
The specter of the night haunts me.
I am yet in the night, remaing in the dark,
Still in darkness, still part of the night.