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A Poem for Insomniacs
by Ian Curtress

Perchance to sleep. There’s the rub
The calamity of wakefulness
The dream that is of sleep.
Sleep that evadeth us all
What is the curse that closes not our eyes
or if closed shall refuse to count the sheep
The Mind is tired, the body tired
Eyes obey the rules
Shut on command but behind the lids
They treateth us like fools
Pillows changed, sides exchanged
But all to no avail
Please just forty winks
it’s not the Holy Grail
Leave the bedroom try to confuse
Return as if sleep routine the norm
Beneath the sheets, extinguish lights
You know your hopes forlorn
Then a miracle, unconsciousness
You think you’ve gone to heaven
You wake in time to celebrate
But the minutes only seven
So I surrender to insomnia
and accept its last solution
I’m rolling towards the cliff top edge
Drop Off ….at the final revolution