INSOMNIA
Posted: Thu Sep 07, 2006 12:44 am
Why is it, when I want to sleep my mind is wide awake?
Hell bent on sorting through a whole week's sensory intake.
I recall the smallest detail, the fragments of each day,
and short of a frontal lobotomy, it just won't go away.
I toss and turn relentlessly, until it's getting light
and on the inside of my eyelids, every single night
in glorious technicolour, full Nicam stereo
the most annoying items from my personal trivia show
still activate my cortex and keep me from my rest,
until I feel my sanity has been put to the test.
And they say-"as you get older, less sleep is what you'll see"
but "they" - (whoever "they" are), MUST be getting more than me!
And I'm starting to gaze with a weary eye
on the chirpy people who say, (presumably after a good night's sleep)
"There's just not enough hours in the day!"
Well, there's just enough hours in MY day to fill up the video tape
which plays each night in the small hours, from which there's no escape
I don't fancy taking sleeping pills, I'm sick of counting sheep
I've tried every single 'old wives tale' that's said to help you sleep.
But those 'old wives' lied through collective teeth
Their remedies are fiction.
They'd have come up with some better ideas
if they'd suffered from this affliction.
So I'll go and put the kettle on, maybe nibble a chocolate bar
and I'll see if writing poetry is a cure for insomnia.
Hell bent on sorting through a whole week's sensory intake.
I recall the smallest detail, the fragments of each day,
and short of a frontal lobotomy, it just won't go away.
I toss and turn relentlessly, until it's getting light
and on the inside of my eyelids, every single night
in glorious technicolour, full Nicam stereo
the most annoying items from my personal trivia show
still activate my cortex and keep me from my rest,
until I feel my sanity has been put to the test.
And they say-"as you get older, less sleep is what you'll see"
but "they" - (whoever "they" are), MUST be getting more than me!
And I'm starting to gaze with a weary eye
on the chirpy people who say, (presumably after a good night's sleep)
"There's just not enough hours in the day!"
Well, there's just enough hours in MY day to fill up the video tape
which plays each night in the small hours, from which there's no escape
I don't fancy taking sleeping pills, I'm sick of counting sheep
I've tried every single 'old wives tale' that's said to help you sleep.
But those 'old wives' lied through collective teeth
Their remedies are fiction.
They'd have come up with some better ideas
if they'd suffered from this affliction.
So I'll go and put the kettle on, maybe nibble a chocolate bar
and I'll see if writing poetry is a cure for insomnia.
