Sunday Sessions #2

I have struggled with sleeping problems for many years, I think it started as a teenager or possibly even younger than that. Funny story: I'm writing the draft of this post at 3am

They say the hours between midnight and 3am are for the writers, the poets, the dreamers... or something like that. 

I wrote this poem at 17 in these hours because my brain was working overtime. I think it is my favourite thing that I have ever written to date.

Insomnia - written 2007

Can't sleep. Too much on my mind. Wondering if I could ever get to the truth, and if I do; what would I find? How can I find it when I can't trust myself? When you second judge every second step can you ever get anywhere... Where? Backwards, forwards, sideways, who knows? 

And what is straight anyway? How do you find North? If everything is relative, what should you relate it to? What's your point of reference? Am I wrong if wrong is the only thing I've ever known? And I'm thinking too much, I know I'm thinking too much. But how do you stop thoughts? And If my way of stopping thoughts is wrong then can you tell me what's right? And... What's left? Confusion and Insomnia: the reason I'm writing this. And you can judge, in fact I expect you to judge. And even before you judge I will know the outcome, because judgement comes from me. 

No not law. We all want to be editors. Cut! Erase! Rewind! Fast forward! Pause... Stop! But no one presses play. I guess no one likes games. But repetition, yes repetition. Daily routines repeated, lies repeated, mistakes repeated. We fall back into the rhythm that we are all so use to. But how do you change the beat? How do you change your heart beat? You know you've messed it all up. You've built the walls to keep yourself in, you never thought of getting out. You've built the walls to keep yourself safe, safe from all the evil. What happens when the evil is you? Thoughts: they got you into trouble. And you get tough skin. And you try hard. Did you ever think of trying soft? No? Why? Because soft is too hard. You do everything right for a week. And for a week you're left. Repetition Confused? So am I. Everything is relative. There are thousands of phrases that relate to me, but if a picture speaks a thousand words and actions are louder than words then I'm on mute. Everything I say has no meaning. Like grammatical error: everything I say is wrong. And at the risk of repeating myself - can you tell me what's right? And then... What's left?