The Insomniac Diary

Day one passes into ten and twelve and eight- Teen years spent by the neon glow of Alarm clock stifled, the heavy hand, a fist Trying to wake the awakened But the sleepless cut the tongue, the wires The life support system down in a blaze Do not try to wake me when I have not slept Scribbled down a diary entry on the back of A calling card, a cigarette box, a prescription Weighted down by a cup of thick black coffee And the stale remnants of a Bloody Mary The tick that follows tock which drives me to despair Sat beside in thoughtlessness as I contemplate myself The world and everything, nothing lies forgotten Off the record, under the carpet, when you are an insomniac You cannot sleep on anything and nothing lies dead It just rebirths itself as you watch the minute tick At the rate of a slothful hour, ticking and tocking And checking the boxes, confirming, yes I have gone insane.