Insomniac Soundtrack

There are things only those who
Never sleep are able to hear.
It’s the repetitive rhythm of
Sounds that compile the melody
Always playing in my tired mind--
The noisy heater which never seems
To get warm enough to thaw the ice
In these veins,
And bring that which I seek
To the surface.
The humming of a fridge filled with
Bottled water, future regrets
And unwanted desires.

Two years ago--
I would've told you these sounds were
Merely whispers,
Un-impactful.
May seem quiet at noon when competing
Against the noise of an awake world
But
At three in the morning,
When that world is sound asleep,
You’ll wonder how you’ve lived
Your entire life never hearing that
Heater, that humming.

The heater, the fridge and
These ticking clocks
Which possess time that I’ll never
Comprehend, all
Together make up the soundtrack
To my nights.
I can't recite this music aloud
For you. It’s
The quiet symphony only heard
By the tortured insomniacs;
It's played for us, the junkies
The addicts.