Sometimes I struggle with sleep.
It becomes a battle between life and death,
my body turning through every possible posture,
like yoga practiced in the dark.
I’ve learned to sleep upside down,
knees pulled to my chest,
staring at the heavens,
hoping a single drop of sleep might fall.
Then my mind begins to unravel.
It releases the DCI in me—
replaying the entire day,
searching for a single speck,
something I missed.
I get stressed, worn thin.
I think I’m a good analyser,
sometimes a mathematician,
summing everything in my head
until the numbers won’t stop.
Breathing becomes difficult.
My veins cramp,
and sleep turns into a needle in a haystack—
sharp, distant, impossible to hold.
So I scroll Instagram reels at midnight,
wide awake,
hoping my eyes will grow tired
before my thoughts do.
It feels like burning coal at night,
a quiet fire
that refuses
to go out.
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Author:
imma isa kemmy (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 2nd, 2026 16:58
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 18
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments3
Insomnia is a most difficult disorder that is exhausting. Nicely written.
thanks a lot
You are most welcome
Oh...I so relate. Powerful write, my friend. Well done! 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🌹
thanks a lot
You are most welcome, Isa!
Before the sweetness of sleep
I breathe
Just like The Iceman
Then I stand
In a cold shower for a laugh
Before slipping into a hot bath
Then lying in the bed
I recall the events of the day
Without dread
Replaying anything
That had a deficit in nobility
And re-Imagine them
As they ought to have been
In my Imagination
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