Insomnolence

Days blend together.
Dreams do not exist here.
Symptom of my symptom
Or perhaps something else entirely.

What is the cause?
Where is the effect?
There seems to be no consequence.
Only blank, dull memories.
Where rich silk and cotton covers should be.

Time has no notion here.
Murder, for no reason at all.
No expectations, nothing at all.
Except to sit, and wonder.
Pondering my ghosts.
Day after day.

What am I doing here?
I honestly don’t have any answer
To any of my questions.
To any of my fears, my doubts.
No purpose, just pouring sand.
For no purpose at all except to pour sand.
I have nothing
And I am nothing.

I can’t sleep.