Insomnia

I think I'm just going to end up starting some kind of book that consists of all my late night/early morning ramblings. There's just that many. Anyhow, I think the subject of this poem is obvious.

It seems that I cannot find Sleep -
It has evaded me again -
And now I wander in the deep,
Watching as the night ends.

The stars are always staring down,
The moon an insomniac like me,
Forever hoping that the Earth
Will somehow lull it into sleep.

And how the first bright rays of day
Should put a spring into my step,
But all they do is make me see
That I could not find Sleep again.

The cogs inside my head are oiled
And will not stop their endless turn,
No matter what I do to block,
They carry on in silent toil.

The bed is made and not in use,
I sit here brightened by the screen;
My eyes are dark and carry worlds,
My shoulders slump; it's hard to breathe.

I've carried on for much too long,
My body breaking my degrees,
And yet my mind does soldier on,
And still I cannot find my Sleep.