In some Niac

Awake in the early morn
when more than the majority
are found midst deepest their slumberings
and i in envy of them.
Wide wake wondering im
over and over turning
and woe-ing over particulars,
circular twister whisper blows.
Envisioning terrible sorts of scenes,
displaying fantastic make-believe things.
Sickness,
im sick with this.
Self-made worry bout
how it may/may not work itself out.

Stirred.
Up.
Consumed.
Ponderings.
Eating at me.
Subjectively silly seeming
feelings of weakness filling.
I fret and doubt.
Will in me unwilling.
It keeps me sleepless .
How long up will i keep this?
Lame duck stayed up.
Awake here im stuck.
Waste-to-self-laying with this
civil-war-mind-game playing.

Sit i eyes open
in some distant room,
Caring not to disturb the house-held, 
the sense of impending doom.
Quietly, quite frightfully,
i pace, fearing they'll hear my stirs,
spelling sleepy lines of questioning; of which id be deserved.
Like: 'why not are you to bed yet, dont you know its late?'
Id rather avoid that situation, in no mood to conversate.
The fact that day is soon to break leads me to evaluate my mind's insomniatic dumbed down state...

Labours on the daily making dollars like before,
that feeling of security gone
i want it back but this time more
Im found laying bout, unable,
feeling worthlessly unemployed.
This funk creeps in and poisons me.
Deliver me oh Lord
Accomplishing some visions
seems harder than before
It felt like i was getting inside
and now fate has shut the door.
Four figured sums in bank accounts seemed to make for better days.
Ive forgotten that im worth a damn
stuck in this shifting phase.

Certainly the current thing (not sleeping yet) is not at all a corrective action.
Anxious mixed with sleep deprived, im void of satisfaction.
Increasingly burdened and annoyed with this vexing me,
Im wondering if i let it consume me if there will be anything left of me.
My mood is a victim abused,
my mind's health being neglected.
Turned inside, upon itself,
my imagination became a weapon...

'Sleep you fool!
You maniac!
Get shut thine eyes at once,'
Inside my head i say to selves:
'Youre kinda being cunts.'
Disturbed with recognition, of conversations in my head,
in a tone un-sublime, to myself I've replied:
'i'll sleep well when im good and fucking dead!'