insomnia insomnia
has the best of me
rolling about in the grim grey light of the dawn
too tired to rise
and too active to sleep
kicking about in my sheets
and wishing exhaustion would pull me down into my pillows
or wishing consciousness would waft me up
and blow me out into the day
like a downy goose plume on the breeze
one or the other
but not this, please!
insomnia insomnia
you relentless son of a bitch
turn up the ticking clock
so I can hear it echoing in my skull
like a chorus of howitzers
at a rock concert
in hell
ruin my day and turn it backward
like i just got off a flight from australia
but without the fucking sun tan
or the cute photo with the baby kangaroo on it
make me feel like some nurse
accidentally poured her frappacino into my iv
and now ground coffee beans and sugar and white foam
are clogging my ventricles
insomnia insomnia
why do you amplify my troubles
and make me think i am mad
and that my life is a burning sopwith camel
spiralling down toward the mud caked craters of the somme
with a tail full of the red baron's lead?
insomnia insomnia
why do you mock me
you scandalous harlot
by making me privy to the flushing toilets
and hissing showers
of morning glory neighbours
who have sprung up from their beds
like they were tied to the rising sun
on big glowing bungee cords?
and why must i listen to them banging and clattering
their pots and pans
and whistling songs about jesus
during the last few pitiful minutes when i could have slept?
