No rest for the wicked, they say
And to that I must rest my case
But at 2a.m. I restlessly pace
With insomnia hot on my trail

It may be excitement, plans yet unfulfilled
Or loneliness, fright of the unshared pillow
Could be merely angst, for cause good or ill
Or insomnia, my old friend, bending me to its will

I reach out to friends through my screen
Watch pixels resolve their thoughts
Hope to see them again someday
Maybe even on here earth