Insomnia

I wake at two. The dreams rewind.

The day now past is redefined,

Its cracked and slipping gears grind.

Remembering will not bring sleep

And to hell with counting sheep.

Getting up to read only prolongs

Alertness — as do regretted wrongs.

You try to empty out all thought,

But find what’s unwillingly sought;

What can be quickly flung away

Returns in images you cannot say.

Soon you’re even more woke up,

Like an overflowing coffee cup.

You change the me from you to I —

That’s worse, like the grasping “my.”

Take all these memories and desires

And drown them in oceanic fires.

Breathe deep until thought expires.