Dreaming Of Insomnia Poem by Sonny Rainshine

His dream is to dream.
At 3 AM his REM
sleep remains elusive,
fluttering under his eyelids
like caged moths,
not conducive to slumber.

The number of hours spent
changing positions over and under
like tidal waves coming and going,
like a snake coiling and crawling,
comprises the shank of the night.

Like invading goths,
inconsequential thoughts
battle the armies of Morpheus
relentlessly until Apollo arises
and the alarm goes off.
Then sleep ascends,
just as it’s time
to dress for work.