Insomnia pt.2 – Nevermore

So I’m jiggling my legs like some frenetic junkie, waiting for the benzos and codeine to kick in.
It’s one of those nights where despite the warmth of the room, I feel cold inside.
My self hating nihilism is all-prevailing and the certainty that I will never be better, that I am doomed to endure day after day of misery and frustration, clings to me like a cold wet bedsheet.

The experience of staying awake all night, especially 2 or 3 days/nights continuously, not only creeps into joints and muscles as stiffness and pain, but eventually becomes a pressure inside the head, like a clamp crushing upon your brain.
Given enough time, everything about staying awake for extended periods of time becomes unpleasant.

My best efforts to boost my mood upward, to think of positive things, and to convince myself life is worthwhile, such as trying to believe that one day I may be even happy, is met every time now by Poes’ Raven, embedded in my mind, it’s vocabulary no greater now than from it’s famous past.

‘Things are going to get better’, I repeat to myself.
“Nevermore”, comes the inetivetible reply.

‘One day, I will be happy’, I even try to believe it.
The Raven croaks, “Nevermore”.

‘I WILL be happy’, I tell it.
“Nevermore”.

I wonder if it understands double negatives.
‘I will not never be happy’, I offer.
Silence.

In the end, I just return it’s ridicule.

‘I will not never inversely opposite become antithetically unhappy’, I say, although I doubt it will fall for any convolutions of syntax and reply ‘Nevermore’.

The raven just stares at me. I suppose because the raven is a creation in my mind, trying to fool myself when I know the plan, isn’t really very logical.

But logic seems to diminish exponentially as hours continue to pass without sleep.

As does motivation, positivity, and the will to live.

I’m beginning to become so freaked out that I can’t even cry.
I want to, I can feel the tears behind my eyes, but the raw scraping of my nerves won’t let them flow.

A tiny bit less control and I’d probably be laughing maniacally. Panic and lack of reason start burning hot in my chest, a strange counter point to the ceaseless icy chill in my guts.

From experience I’ll still be awake this time tomorrow (5.30am), so there’s always some potentially delusional posts to look forward to.

Insomnia

Some might fall asleep with ease,
Such vanity!
Amost equal to the envy
That graces my every weary breath.
These empty, malicious hours
Will not be filled by mere distraction,
Night demands complete attention.
She will be neither shunned nor ignored,
Tearing into your head like sheets of sandpaper.
Time, ever her gleeful accomplice, slows all,
Until the distance between each minute mark
Surpasses all the great oceans as one.
While confined to a coffee cup,
You keep paddling.

Alone, Together.

You say goodnight,
Time for bed.
Tired eyes,
Sleepy head.

In the stillness of the room
I can hear your gentle breathing,
You have fallen straight to sleep
Before my feet are done unfreezing.

Another icy night,
It’s the middle of that season,
Our body-warmth beneath the quilt
Is not the only reason
To lay here.
To stay here.

I picture monsters in the darkness,
But I’m not much for believing,
There are much worse things by far,
Like the clock hand slowly cleaving.

Cleaving away each helpless hour.
And I lie here, wide awake,
Hours long since passed from evening,
Well into the morning now,
I wonder what you’re dreaming.

Because I’ll lie here with my mind,
My mind all madly teeming,
Body cramping, muscles screaming,
Trying so hard not to move,
Or accidentally waken you.

I’ll lie here all night, suffering instead,
So that you can sleep soundly, when we both share a bed.

insomnia

Where art thou Morpheus?
I seek Lethe and no other,
Guidance and
Protection from Thanatos
Thy brother.

Rivers five, so similar,
I may confuse
And in my earnest haste for
Oblivion, choose
Poorly to my dismay.

So for the briefest moment,
Guide my way.
Clutch’d tight is my
Fare for the ferryman….


perchance to dream..

Twisted sheets and I’m so tired,
My face hurts when I fake a smile.
I wish that I could fall asleep
For just a little while.

Passing hour seventy-two,
My mind has come undone.
I don’t know what I should do,
I can’t stand anyone.

My thoughts become disjointed now,
They make no sense at all.
A thousand whirling whispers
Like wind blown leaves in Fall.

Now I’ve started seeing
Things that can’t be real.
Things that cease to bother,
I no longer care or feel.

Well, the drugs don’t work,
I hear they make you worse,
Although I may well have
Hallucinated that whole verse.

My soul aches, my mind breaks.
I’m sounding like a Beatles’ song.
How long until I go insane?
I’m sure it won’t be long..