Insomniac

Insomniac

Having woken

Or rather failed to sleep

I am fumbling at the catch

Of my therapist’s words but

Her meaning eludes me.

Having lost another pen

At a poet’s book signing

I am kidding myself it doesn’t matter

As I search for a pen.

The lies we tell ourselves to

Prop up the truth

Are as fascinating as the

Truths we conceal to

Bolster the lies.

Having gone beyond sleep

And aching with every tick of the clock

The red eyed dawn is up with me

Checking itself for morning.

The truth is David Bowie, I have let you down

I have let the milk float ride my mind, aware

That you advised don’t and

Now my psyche is full of

The pecked foil of frozen winter,

The snap, crackle and pop

Of a cereal killer wet with cow juice.

Shattered milk typexing the road

Into endless hypens.