Whenever I have a bout of insomnia I try to make the best use of my time. I usually try and sort things out that I have been ruminating on during the day. But I never accomplish much. Moreover, it is very dangerous. Although I am conscious of being awake, I think my subconscious is more active than I realize and I can’t form coherent thoughts. You can’t trust what your mind tells you in this state. It must be what a schizophrenic experiences when a shadowy character in his head tells him that nothing good will ever happen and he should go jump off a building. If you make it through the night things always look better in the morning. Even still, insomnia is a miserable way to spend the evening.

Sleepless

Seven shards of moonlight

Shimmer on the sill

Brittle as silver ice

Shaved from a frozen block of midnight

 

Ghosts pace their cells

Behind glowing bars 

Sliced from brutal street lamps

By Venetian blades

 

Never welcome 3 A.M.

Or shake her sable hand

She tricks you into talking 

In dark, spinning circles while she snores to mock you 

 

Four turns five in nine chimes

Wood grain drinks the melting ice, ghosts go free

The Angel of Dawn descends

And slowly stretches out on the carpet