Insomnolence Poem by Robert J Meyer

Despite the rage and rawness twitching at my left eye
And the constrictions coursing through my forearms
I sit
Professing sleep to the imp ratcheting at my brain.
Tintinitis blares mercilessly
Sending the blood pounding through temples punished by pressures –
Real and imagined.

Everyone asserts insomnia.
But do they really know that aching hour
When dread escalates to frenzy
And the knife seems a plausible deliverer?

But I am not Shakespeare’s Dane.
My troubles are slight – no match for that haunting.
My tragedies are of a more human scale.
No kingdoms hang in the balance except my internal domain;
The only challengers to sovereignty is Melatonin –
And the nagging worries of a regular life –
And ringing ears –
And fidgeting arms –
And aching head –
And itchy eyes –

Oh, peace!
Please, peace!
What crime inhabits my glands and organs
To deny me surcease?
Biology has sinned against me.
I seek a high priest of Narcopolis –
A vestal to lead me to the River of Dreams –
Or maybe an engineer to tear at the firmament beneath the enzymes and proteins,
Carpenters and masons to cobble together structures of somnolence.

A pact!
Some bargain may be struck,
If not Faustian
Perhaps Freudian.
The ego may be compelled to obey the ancient id.
Sleep.
The lizard brain demands it.
The cerebellum bellows war,
Sets barricades against it,
Sends scouts in bioelectrical disguise
Pricking at nerves,
Bathing tendrils in adrenalin.
Saboteurs.

The battle is lost.
The sun rises.
My head whirls.
I stand
Dazed.