The night is only a sort of carbon paper,
Blueblack, with the much-poked periods of stars
Letting in the light, peephole after peephole --
A bonewhite light, like death, behind all things.
Under the eyes of the stars and the moon's rictus
He suffers his desert pillow, sleeplessness
Stretching its fine, irritating sand in all directions.

Over and over the old, granular movie
Exposes embarrassments--the mizzling days
Of childhood and adolescence, sticky with dreams,
Parental faces on tall stalks, alternately stern and tearful,
A garden of buggy rose that made him cry.
His forehead is bumpy as a sack of rocks.
Memories jostle each other for face-room like obsolete film stars.

He is immune to pills: red, purple, blue --
How they lit the tedium of the protracted evening!
Those sugary planets whose influence won for him
A life baptized in no-life for a while,
And the sweet, drugged waking of a forgetful baby.
Now the pills are worn-out and silly, like classical gods.
Their poppy-sleepy colors do him no good.

His head is a little interior of grey mirrors.
Each gesture flees immediately down an alley
Of diminishing perspectives, and its significance
Drains like water out the hole at the far end.
He lives without privacy in a lidless room,
The bald slots of his eyes stiffened wide-open
On the incessant heat-lightning flicker of situations.

Nightlong, in the granite yard, invisible cats
Have been howling like women, or damaged instruments.
Already he can feel daylight, his white disease,
Creeping up with her hatful of trivial repetitions.
The city is a map of cheerful twitters now,
And everywhere people, eyes mica-silver and blank,
Are riding to work in rows, as if recently brainwashed.

I'm awake all night
I'm awake all day
the restlessness won't go away

They think I'm worried
but I'm not
my thoughts are just tied in knots

confusion lingers in early hours
and continues 'til it's late
As my body starts to abate

The inability to sleep is killing
So I sit and write with ink
And caffeine in my drink

Music playing loud
and I'm waiting to be found
and sleep in silent sound

as i sit here awake
waiting for some comfort
only received by those
who venture into the
depths that the night offers
delusions of peace
and visions of grace
cloud my weary mind
yet do nothing to ease
my troubled heart
is there any truth
to be had from my restless vigil?
i - a sentinel of the moon
i - a watcher of the shadows
i - an eloquent fool
am driven to seek
a respite from the waking world
by staying the hand of
the sandman in hopes that
these mountainous mole hills
may shrink under my gaze
futile? it may be so
yet dreams that may keep my company
scare me more than any
insomnia induced hallucination

Here I am, awake and consumed by my thoughts of you.
Yes, you!
You should be proud because you're driving me crazy.
You're the only one that has ever done this to me,
so you can consider this as an achievement.
Well done.
Now, there's only one thing for you to do
and that is to accept my love for you.
Can you at least do that for me?
*please?

The amount of nicotine I ingest
Is more than enough
To send a small child
Into a lengthy coma.

Although it helps me relax
For but a moment
As I take them by the pack
Chain smoking just has a way
Of sending a person down.

Passing out is a means of sleep
But when all you do is shake
And your heart may as well burst
Is it worth the risk
And the headache that forms shortly after
The buzz wears off?

Absolutely.

Sun up till sun down
Trapped in a perpetual frown
Moon comes then she goes
Drops free fall from my nose

Waking hours in the daylight
Aimless motions; clumsy, puppet-like
Waking hours in the night
Uncomfortable in my own skin and psych

Sleeplessness be my companion
Restlessness be my actions
Despondence be my demon
Crest fallen be my reason

Frantically sifting through my head
Vertically upright or supine in bed
Compartmentalising might be key
To fend off self inflicted insanity

Desperation hangs overhead; ripe and bruised
Excuses upon excuses ridiculously overused
Furiously typing before my mind curds
Hopes of finding peace in these unspoken words

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Sleeplessness is a lonely kingdom.

I could promise myself discipline with the daylight,
but what if I told you that I lied under the moonlight?
Sinners never sleep,
sinners never sleep.

They lie awake and talk
with the wings of Gabriel.
They don't shut their eyes;
there are stories in the picture houses of their own.
Of lie and deciet.
And guilt and anguish.

They'll never sleep.

They'll howl with the night
and forget why they were meant
to darken their hearts to match the sky.

They'll never glow. They'll never beat.
I'll never sleep. I'll never sleep again.

She couldn’t sleep so she wrote
Of her abiding love for him
Forever and a day she wrote
On white paper with a pen
Words like infinity
Undying, unrelenting desires
Efflorescence, epochal, perpetual and ambiance
She says love is like a flower
It changes the mood of a space
By its fragrance
And it lasts forever
Never giving up as it
Continuously blooms
Knowing no measure
She didn’t fall asleep till after midnight
And loved him all the while she wrote
Dreaming of flowers, eternity, time and space

outside winds whisper
the damp night yearns for the dawn
sleep hides between thoughts

Sleeplessness might be a curse
More hours should be a blessing
I cannot find joy in madness
Sleeplessness is sane-less-ness
Insanity turns to absence
The void in my eyes alarms
Notice bring stress and tension
I'm too wound-up to sleep
I'm a snake eating its own tail
I should visit the pharmacy but
I rush to get home instead
Too tired to do anything
Too tired to fall asleep
Insomnia is a cruel mistress