Sleeplessness is the Gift I ask not for
But grants my imagination a vivacity
That thrives as a plethora of drugs,
And I see thee as a painful love
That I simply cannot return

Every night
I wait till 4 AM
when the moon comes
to my part of the sky
and illuminates my windowsill
with her silver light

Lunar radiance
lulls me slowly
I listen to the soft song
with closed eyes
sung by the southern breeze
like gentle wind chimes

The dead letters of Sleep
finally arrive at my postbox desolate
but not long before the neon dial starts screaming,
"IT'S TOO LATE! IT'S TOO LATE!"

It's too late..

I thought
I needed a break
From you
What I needed
Was a vacation
From my mind

I bring out a bottle
I keep the ashtray close
I open the northern window
And let in the midnight breeze

A bud lit like a firefly
A lone light in a dark room
Beyond which urban neons
And streetlamps illume

Smoke rises over my head
Like a thought bubble
In a graphic novel
Pages untouched and unturned

The hour of monsters
The rest of humanity rests
While the night shift begins
For the thoughts in my head

Illusory sensations begin
Could it be the spirits?
Or conscious daydreaming
In the middle of the night?

I catch a glimpse
Of a pair of eyes
Hurrying away from the window
As soon as they met mine

My mind is tired
The ****** soothes,
The drink gives warmth
To the parched traveller inside

Cramps in my nerves
Pain in my bones
The bedroom beckons
Its 3AM. It's getting cold

I collapse on the sheets
My mind too dreary
To contemplate, once I sleep
What nightmares await me

I reckon I have resigned
To Fate, this grim Hell
Because I know Tonight
Is coming Tomorrow as well

I have been once before this told
that the true meaning of insane
was to repeat any result
and not have expected the same

and despite all that here i am
with my head in shock and shambles
too fast, too soon, in love again
so much for learning from gambles

whatever i was meant to be
mature or yet another farce
oh torture and its parities
i fear i must with reason part

shall i long for proximity
or pine for needy attention
become nuisance implicitly
face certain, solemn rejection

or should i now hope not at all
bury myself in burning pain
of misery henceforth recall
and enter a state of insane?

i am not a blithering fool
i know that lasting love takes time
that feelings like rain drops will pool
that mind and heart slowly align

yet of no matter what i think
trying truly to go to bed
i know i will not sleep a wink
because you're stuck inside my head