morning has come,
the day is
but young.
though during
the night
just passed,
there was no
sleep that was
to be had.
not even a peep.
not one peep.
now all i
can do
is mope, cry,
and weep.

no sleep,
once again,
same as
the four nights
that preceeded.
i guess
i have
sowed
and then
reaped
what i seeded.

sunlight peers
gently,
through the
closed curtains.
whilst i sit here,
head resting in arms,
thinking
of you.

sleep, o’ great
cousin of
death.
relinquish my
waking state
and soothe
me into
sweet slumber.
let me dream
wonders
of awe,
inducing a trance –
making
my brain
play, sing,
and dance.

though this
is just
hopeful wishing.
for the sun
stares me
dead
in the eyes.
words doth
not need
be spoken,
for the sun’s
message is clear;
needs only her
stare.

“sleep you may,
but rest – hmm…
nay.”
my sleep cycle
stands out
of whack.
standard routine,
now of which
i do lack.