Insomnia and her friend, Loneliness

The birds are singing to me again
at 4 in the morning.

It’s always at this hour that they begin to serenade me.
Oh but surely, it’s not of love.

It’s just to reassure me that I’ve had another scandalous affair with Insomnia. They’re always the first ones to remind me of how adulterous I am.

Can you blame me?

How can I pass up the offer when Insomnia’s
knocking at my door with a new pair of lingerie
colored so beautifully in misery —
with a bottle of regret in her hand.
Not to mention her fine friend,
Loneliness.

These two always make my night, I tell ya.

But these birds are like my conscience,
but then again,
who the hell listens to their conscience anyway?
Eventually they’ll go away.

‘til the sun comes out and laughs in my face:
“Another sleepless night? Stay up babe, the day’s
just getting started.”

Go to hell.

And of course lovely Insomnia with her beloved Loneliness leave before then, but not before they strip me of sleep.

As always, I’m drunk with regret.
Nothing new. I’ve gotten used to the bitter taste
it leaves at the end of my tongue.

But still I assure you: I am not an alcoholic.

That’s just the price to pay for the company of Insomnia
and her friend, Loneliness.

 I’m still young. I’ve got plenty of more nights
before I can’t afford to lose sleep on you, Insomnia.
So come again with your friend,
while I’m still young.

and let the birds sing me another song.