I reside in a perpetual state

Caused by staying up late

From leaving open the gate

To my brain where dark entities can enter

And entice bleak musings from the middle of my

Mind.

A state that makes my body ache

And rattle from the pills that I take

To keep myself from staying awake

But to no avail as I toss and turn each

Night.

Red threads crack around my pupils

Blue bags begin to rest under my eyes

And as I numbly shovel cornflakes into my hanging mouth

I feel my back hunch over

My bones sigh

Wheezing from the effort it takes to remain

Upright.

My mother takes pity

Drags me into the city

To see the best GP money can buy

Only for him to tell me that I am not tired.

His prescription is sun light

Oranges and lemons bright

Fruits of the earth and wholesome dinners

Made by a calloused hand

Who knows no such thing as rest.

So I walk

I talk

I eat

I read

I do many things

But I do not sleep.

Categories: PoetryTags: insomnia, mental health, Poetry