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.
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