Under My Sofa

Lying

Lying in a darkened room
Wanting to breathe, afraid to move
Sweat trickles down an icy neck
Lying that I'm not a wreck

The air hovers as still as death
Breathing, breathing, I draw one breath
The ticking clock doesn't rest
Feeling watched and underdressed

Shut my eyes for the thousandth time
Then they're open again, don't remember why
Stitch them shut and smother my mouth
Teach me not to make a sound

Pin me to the bed with clinical sheets
Pace my heart to slow its beats
Hijack my brain and switch it off
Clamp a hand round my throat so I can't cough

My back is hot, my face is cold
I lie here, slowly growing old
My lungs expand but draw no air
No one said breathing was fair

Reaching for the comforting light of a phone
Compounding the fact that I'm alone
An aching heart, an aching chest
They tell me kindly to get more rest

Ticking clocks, beating hearts
Asleep and awake are worlds apart
Butterfly pins hold me to the bed
Dripping skin and pounding head

Waiting in vain for a scrap of light
The darkness burns unbearably bright
Pressing down on the edge of my mind
People are dreaming, I'm left behind

Lying in a bed I've never made my own
Unable to escape my home
They fight wars in their dreams, but I'm just dealing
Lying, staring at my ceiling

***

Okay, so insomnia's a bitch.

All the people on here that I talk to regularly will know that I'm pretty much always available at any time of day, because sleep just doesn't come easily to me.

And while sleep is kind of comfortable, getting to sleep totally isn't, as I'm sure everyone finds.

Hence the poem. I know that at least some of you can relate, and I feel for ya.

Alex xxx