Ever suffered from insomnia?

Thankfully it’s been a while since I had a bought of insomnia. It’s not something I deal with very often, but when it strikes I become a walking zombie pretty quickly. The other night I wrote a poem about insomnia, here it is:

Insomnia                                                                                                                    

The first night it’s an annoyance,

a frustration,

a morning of coffee and open-mouthed yawning.

The second night it’s a terror,

eyes wide in fear as the hands

chase one another in a tireless circle.

The third night is euphoria

followed by the crash,

the monsters start coming

out of closets and shimmying

from underneath beds.

The fourth night it’s insanity,

scenes pulled from asylums

where screams are half-swallowed

and the nightmares don’t stop

when you open your eyes.

The fifth night you could be the lead

in a zombie movie,

but only the slow-moving zombies,

you’ve got no energy for speed.

The sixth night you trick

your brain with pills swallowed.

You consider three hours a victory.

The seventh night you’re

mistaken for someone detoxing.

You assume this is an accurate description.

You wish you were only dealing

with a drug addiction.

The eighth night you banish

all light and sound from the house.

You are wide awake in a quiet tomb.

The ninth night you can no longer

walk without your hand on the wall

to steady you.

The tenth night your mind splinters

and you see butterflies and stars and fairies

in the dark corners of your bedroom.

The eleventh night you pop

a high dose pill and fall

into a waveless ocean of rest.