Insomnia

why am I awake?
in this dying night 
listening to the staccato of
my fragile heart
pumping miles of red
a sonata written by 
the unwelcome words 
in my head 
I have miles to go yet 

are my words my own? 
am I here or there where I can never go 
an artistic rendering of 
my vicious thoughts

settling into my skin 
does it matter if I can’t recognize 
my eyes
my lips 
caged by my skin 
I pick my thumbs 
little paper cuts tear my epithelium 
and my binding falls apart
bleeding something
but never enough 

will I ever be enough? 
enough questions 
the night is dying  
and I must sleep