Insomnia

A poem about struggling with the frustrations of insomnia.

Insomnia

Another night of moon gazing
And stars shimmering in the reflection of my eyes.
I understand the meaning of time standing still,
Even the trees do not move
Even the crickets are silenced in this morning solitude,
This early morning tomb
Of restless thoughts and taught muscles.
I should be used to it by now.
I should be used to counting sheep
Counting stars,
Counting,
Counting forwards,
Counting backwards.
But I am not.
It is a disease that sucks me dry.
It gnaws at my body
And makes me weep with frustration.
Oh for one night of sleep.
One night of sweet solitude.
What I would give to sleep through the sunrise
To awake and find it high in the sky,
Not peering, haughtily, over the horizon.