I can't title another poem Insomnia

The psychosis that ensues
upon the realization that you can’t sleep…
…that you won’t sleep…
These thoughts bring back haunting memories.

Of times when I thought I was crazy.
When I thought I was so wrong,
and there was never a way out.

I no longer look at the clock.
I no longer wonder what may become of me
in the morning.

Time not sleeping
is the most creative time in my life.
The most productive.

Life is ENDLESS
when you don’t sleep.

The world becomes its own song,
play,
that you can change more than the rest,
because you have more time,
and more creativity.

It gives you one up on the rest of the world,
for the time being.

For how many hours I have not slept in life
it’s no wonder I’m the person I have become today.

“You think too much.”
I always believed they thought too little.
Is it possible to think too much?

No.
But it is possible to have more TIME to do such thinking.

Welcome to my home.
It’s not cozy in here.
It’s cold.
And lonely,
and never-fucking-ending.

Days blend seamlessly into night
and nights never end.

Counting down the hours to its death,
and the new life
of tomorrow.