An Insomniac’s Convoluted Night — A Writer’s Perspective

***This is what my brain comes up with after 6 hours of sleep in the past 5 days. Don’t mind the rhyme, lack of rhyme, or lack of anything that would remotely makes sense.

11:00 p.m.

I’m a mess, I confess.
In the dark, in the light.
My mind is a trap,
but no, it won’t stop.
The seconds go by
with my freedom’s fight.
I don’t know if I’ll say
goodbye to the night.

12:07 a.m.

I slay dragons.
I grocery shop.
The zombies attack.
I lay in the dark.
A romance is brewing.
The mischief is stewing.
A phoenix is rising,
the ash . . . it gets stifling . . .

1:15 a.m.

I think of the kids . . . oh no, are they well?
I go back in time: they’re tiny, innocent, and so sweet.
How I wish it would keep. The present cuts too deep.
The world has turned, there’s nowhere to run.
There are shootings, there’s killing. There’s hate, I can’t deal.
How to pray? How to fight? How to make the world smile?
I picture their faces, I sigh, and I breathe.
They’ll be grown, they’ll be old, they’ll be worn, they’ll be loved.
They’re mine, I will teach them. They’re mine, they’ll be fine.
I’m a mom. I’m their mom, my worry won’t rest,
but as the minutes tick by, I’m trying my best.

3:32 a.m.

I’m a writer, an author.
I have passions and dreams.
I’m creative. I have worlds within me.
But, no I’m a fraud,
how stupid, how naive.
My mind is a prison,
it mocks me, it lacks vision.
But I’m stubborn, hardworking,
a role model of sorts.
I can face a challenge and rise.
I’ve done it before.
The hope is reborn,
I’ll fight through the storm.
I can do it, I’m fearless,
I won’t stop, I will do it.
I’m tired, I babble,
should I play Scrabble?

. . . . . . My eyes are drifting. I think this is it . . . . .

4:10 a.m.

What a joke. I’m awake.
I’m angry, I confess.
I need to do something . . .
Work, TV, or bench press?
It’s silly, you’re tired,
shut down, count the sheep
 . . .
They’re cute, they’re jumping,
watch out for the jeep!
The castles break ground,
the sheep are now knights.
They’re in battle, they fight
the aliens for rights.

My eyes snap open,
I slept, what a dream!
Great idea to write down,
it was pretty profound. *[1]

5:25 a.m.

I’m tired, I’m yawning,
oh hello, sweet dreams . . .
but before I drift,
you know I must pee.
My night is a repeat of a repeat’s repeat.
And so it will go for months to no end,
. . . no end indeed.

6:30 a.m. 

The alarm goes off, I’m back to the grind.

The coffee, the kids’ breakfast,
the yawning, the laughter.
But today is the day,
I’m not too tired to write after.
Not today, not tomorrow,
this time I’m sure.
I’ll take the kids to school,
I’ll work, and work some more,
but later today I’ll be writing,
I’ll be in the zone.
More coffee on the menu,
more coffee for yours.
I get the kids from school,
deal with homework,
swimming, soccer, or judo,
then dinner is served.
But I’ll write right after,
of that I’m sure
my priorities are no longer obscure.

7:00 p.m.

The sundown is coming,
the night is approaching.
It swallows the light whole;
the darkness is home.

Get kids ready for bed.
Yawn and yawn some more.
Can’t keep my eyes open
but can’t keep them shut.
Prep lunch for next day,
kids clothing, wash dishes.
Perhaps some Netflix to unwind,
then work on my wishes.

I will write. What to write?
Rewrite or revise?
But I need to sleep,
and I think I just might . . .

11:00 p.m.

I’m a mess I confess.
In the dark, in the light.
I don’t know if I’ll say goodbye to the night . . .


*[1]-Genius dream idea, sure to become a bestseller: A phoenix fairy godmother and her alien sheep-goat.


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