Insomnia

The plague of my mind.

Exhaustion, hanging like a shroud on my mind,
Begging for rest, for the gentle meeting of head and pillow.
Sleep is ever evasive to me,
Running.

It was never like this before.
The shroud was often peeled away by one simple appeasement,
A gift I no longer have the power to give myself.

Insomnia.
Inability.
Exhaustion.
I feel like I’ve shaken hands with the monster.
Complete inability.
No sleep.
Evasive.
And awake.
Ever awake.

Reviews

[Dan Bullock]

Gack, the insomina! I haven't suffered for a while thankfully, but am interested by the monster you have shaken hands with...intriguing metaphor....or exact description I ask thee!