Today is Monday,
Perhaps Tuesday, now, I'm guessing,
and my mind somehow feels the need
to show how perfectly well it's functioning
by never wanting to shut off.

Oh, I've counted sheep,
Pondered chameleons
(Because sometimes invisibility is all I want),
Drifted off, dreamt I died, then woke in a cold sweat,
I downed a Diet Coke
(With caffeine, my mistake),
Cleaned my room by flashlight
And danced, alone, to my iPod.

I've played guitar quietly,
feeling pathetic in the dark,
Taken pictures of the moonlight,
And hummed myself to sleep
(Unsuccessfully).

So now my mind is buzzing.

I've written love letters, torn them up,
then taped them back together
(Some day, I tell myself),
I've completed Harry Potter movies one and two,
But gave up on the third, for what's the point
of meeting Sirius
when he will just die anyways?

And that started me on Googling
the meaning of life
(When did Harry Potter become so intellectual?)
which left me thoroughly confused;
I sketched a pair of praying hands
but it looked more like two fists
and then, as I looked into the mirror,
seeing my hollow eyes with purplish rings, I thought,
I really need some sleep.

Peanut butter toast should do the trick,
but now I'm running on a sugar high.
I could run a marathon!, I think,
but then cringe at the idea of
collapsing yards before the finish line,
snoring loudly.

INSOMNIA! I scream,
for this silence is a beast,
And as the mental part of my brain decides,
Tomorrow's Geometry might be the snoozer,
the secret trick of sleep,
my alarm clock beeps.