Dreary days drip into endless, sleepless nights.
Gazing out the window counting cars,
Counting seconds minutes hours.
The moon rises.
The moon sets.
I do not.
The sun rises.
I am still risen, lying down is too hard,
Too much work to finally rest.
There is no rest for the weary.

So many days have passed and
I am involuntarily awake.
The pillow disgusts me and
The dark terrifies me.
The walls close in, I cannot
Avoid the stares of the stars
Watching, waiting,

How I long for the days of napping,
Of sleeping when I wanted to,
Needed to.
How I wish I could fall asleep
With ease again.

The ease has gone from my life.

You said you needed space once again, so I stepped aside and you put me back in your shelf.
I waited weeks and months to be taken out, but, "give me another week," you said.
And so I waited and I waited, and I cried, and I missed you like crazy.
I was left insomnious.
Eventually, I found my way down, went through the door and you never heard of me again.
I had hoped you would come looking for me... but you never did.

I have tried to give birth to a new and improved version of my vision
Exulting blips of exactitude and ambition
Flashes of pretension on a screen of pending dreams
Lacking mobility and projection
Inertia writhes

I'm mainly advertising trying to sell and intrigue
To those who have enough eloquence to persuade my predilection and schemes
Endorsing me providing lifelines and pure consciousness
Lacking the force of extorted themes and exulting worthiness
Cleansing my mind of the mocking bird's trash heap
Help me dissemble the falsified declarations and professions of fiends

I want to be pristine
I beg thee to teach and galvanize me
Endowing me with inexorable sight
Keeping me keen and full of bold might
I am willing to fight

Bring me to the surface of these turbulent seas
No need to mention my frailties and anxieties
All I ask is a breath from the surface of true realities

The urgency constrains my needs for rejuvenation and appreciations
For all those little beautiful things that once meant the world to me
Like pink carnations

Sleeplessness morphs into spells of insomnious hauntings
Stunting my contractions
It's completely and utterly exhausting
A labor deprived of true initiative and wanting
It may sound silly but everything is contradictory

It is these pains that leave me incomplete, ineffectual, and in paralyzing omission
Excluded and feeling great depths of oppression
Despairing and kept in solitary confinement
  
Suffering more than I'd like to profess
Distressing the matters that cave into my chest
An infiltration of insurmountable anguish
Abolished
Untouched by a shoulder or hand of accommodation
Is it selfish to push for this magnitude of isolation?

I crave cultivation
I want to grow into the Giant Sequoia
But the fires of self doubt leave my branches in ruins
Smoke signals sending sirens
A constant affliction
It's all my own doing

Contingency pleading for nourishment
Somehow knowing thee and ye could constitute for something of legends
Tell that to our reflections
Or maybe it's the fear of fire that terminates our pregnancy
Causing us to introvert instead of projecting
Withholding both you and I from mastery

Words are my inspiration.
Emotions are what fuels me
To put my heart on paper.

Reading helps me realise.
What life really means to me.

And when in times of stress
I take a step back from reality.
And breathe.

I sense the stirring
of my murmuring heartbeat.

My mind is wired and restless.
For many thoughts and emotions
Continuously collide within myself.

My only release
to cease my insomnious mind.
Is to set them free

Even if it means to carve away sleep.
Hoping in the end
That nothing will be left inside of me.