5:46 winds to 5:47 as the sun reaches
Up to paint the sky a light blue hue.
Another cigarette thrown in the toilet
Ashes already settled on the morning dew.
5:49 and still the prick of sleep evades
This sad mockery of a poet.
The constant hum of those bugs
Those insomniacs drill into my head.
Thoughts of tomorrow and the coming week
The excitement to follow keeps me up
Or perhaps it is the lack of sleep
The night before to blame.
A blinking cursor lets me know time
Is still passing through 5:53
Though why the grip of consciousness
Strangles me I deny to know.
Clearly I too am an Insomniac
At 5:55 the bugs outside invite me
Join us, join us, join us
I think rather they are joining me.
Already frustration in knowing that
Tomorrow, such an eventful day,
Will be burdened, anchored, flooded
With visions and longing for sleep.
What plague is this that I should endure
That cruel raccoon, am I his kin?
I shall return to my bed and lie for much more
Hours to pass as I attempt yet again, at 6:00.
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