Before bed, I partake in more than enough libations to initiate rapid eye movement else natural doses of melatonin will enslave me to the biorhythms of nightlife like an African stuck in 18th century America. If given the opportunity, insomnia would whip me with tiny details of everyday living ending in depression.
Nevertheless, as if with the last grain of an hourglass’ sand, my eyes routinely spring open upon the witching hour. Perhaps they’re in tune with oxidizing last drops of inebriating tonic like timers; and with that clockwork, I wake to consider more sips of intoxicants or suck in aspirin and sink water so as not to rise with too much of a headache (should sleep come again.)
Lo, this night finds me tossed the butt of some cosmic joke—once again turned prisoner to ruffled sheets and memories.
Author notes
3 a.m.
39. Insomnia
A contest entry
- Insomnia by LaylaLace.
1000 points, ended September 3, 2008, 15 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - A Celebration- 100 Word/Title Prompts! by Metaphorist.
600 points, ended September 28, 2008, 16 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 14 of 14
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Love the part "the butt of some cosmic joke". Your prose flows well. Thanks for entering and good luck!
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I liked your use of comparisons here.
Good luck in the contest!
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Engaging Dez
Enjoyed the glimpse inside of sleepless nights and restling demons...we all do with a different variation. Sometimes they dissipate with the crack of dawn and sometimes it rides the back of depression until were ready to get off. Keep gettin off though.
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uhm ok
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Excellent as always
On second thought, maybe the bloody whites of my eye from last week really was from a hangover afterall...and the ruffled sheets, memories and those 2 hours of lost time...Me thinks Mr. Friday has some 'splaining to do!
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I can't wait to read your first book.
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A Delightgul Read
I love this!! This is the kind of writing that can only be inspired by experience. Excellent metaphor, simile and analogy use! Excellent introduction of thought and bridge to conclusion.
This was a delightful read!
Thanks for sharing.
John
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There is a target on time of that 3;oo am bewitchment hour for myself too. I know what you mean. It's as if some whispering phantom jolts me awake always within that hour nightly. Has for several years now. Exhaustion,sleep aids,hot relaxing showers before bedtime. Nothing helps to avoid it. I've come to the conclusion. Something has or will happen exactly then.Of huge importance to life on our Earth.I've napped prior nightly knowing I'll be up at 3;00 am till dawn. It's a given.This piece gave a voice to the phenom.
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"Nevertheless, as if with the last grain of an hourglass’ sand, my eyes routinely spring open upon the witching hour."
The inability to sleep...or stay asleep is very frustrating. For me, it was the night's when I couldn't seem to turn my brain off. Ideas/thoughts tumbling in my head like marbles. Now, except for the rare occasion, I am grateful that my brain cooperates in hibernating for the night. Thoughtful, middle-of-the-night write, Dez!
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This is so ironic b/c I wrote a poem about the same subject.
http://allpoetry.com/poem/3912415
We all can relate and I love your version! Keep Writing!
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dagg!
You too! l.o.l.! man I know this pain! great piece on how near impossible a 'good' night's sleep is so hard to come by. write on my friend!
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sometimes this is a great time to roll over half awake, sometimes it is the worst... the thoughts are never unwelcome because they are the real reminder...this too is one's life, no refunds...no replays; so important to savor...well done here stream of thoughtful musings...'skid
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I know your pain!!! Insomnia is a killer... especially if it is the type that just lets you almost get to sleep.. then jolts you awake!
Arggghhhhh.... poor you!
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The poet places the reader within the time and sleepless space within this altered state of unwanted reality and makes an impression of insomnia and inebriation, the intoxicating libation having left the poet down but not out. A piece of prose that shows how surreal 3 a.m may be, 'tis the whitching hour perhaps for the anomoly that more people pass over at this time than at any other, as if the body is then at it's lowest ebb. Whilst Sleepless in Seattle may have made a good movie the reality of sleepnessness everywhere else does indeed imprison within ruffled sheets and memories...
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