The Job of my Insomnia

Something I know all to well...

The job of my insomnia is to plague my sleepless nights,

To tear its claws into my skin,

Shred my flesh from bone,

And, throw every mistake I’ve ever made in my face,

In each hour of my endless wake.

Its job is to slather each eyelid in concrete,

So they droop like daisies in somber heat.

But, riddle my veins with caffeine like haze.

So I may never slumber.

I count the days,

And, then I count the nights.

I number the moonlit skies that fly by backwards,

And, tally the rays that flood through drapes

Leaving me to wonder:  

When was the last time my mind shut off?

When was the last time my mind shut off?

When was the last time my mind shut off?

But, no answer comes.

Except the echo of the same question,

ricocheting,  

in this toss and turn consciousness of mine.

And, from this I can only define one thing.

The utter pointlessness of this wide eyed awake.

That I just can’t seem to shake.

And, the pills that just throw it all in my face,

As I choke each one down dry,

Because in this mind

All I see is him, her, you, me, and everything inbetween.

Every face I wronged,

Every smile I ever crushed between the pads of pinky finger and thumb,

Just so they would be wrong.

And, I was right.

But, I have not ever prepared for this midnight visitor.

I never knew to slide the blade between pillow and case

So that when this insomnia of mine reared his ugly face

I was left with nothing but nails to claw,

Teeth to pinch,

And eyes wide opened.

Because I always lose this hopeless feud

Author's Note

Tell me what you think :)