Without sleep, early in the morning, thoughts race around your head.

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Erratic thoughts at 3AM
A head full of fear and loathing
Two companions keep me company
Nasty Nick, constantly calling me to fill my lungs with smoke
And Holden Caulfield, my fictitious friend
Call him an acquaintance instead
A term to better suit a man that moans
Too much and to tell the truth
I’m glad your chapters are short
Really what wisdom can I glean from you?
You are no Jane Eyre or Alighieri
Perhaps I should turn to Ted Hughes
He is there upon my desk, waiting for my wandering eye
To rest upon his pages
NO! NO! NO!
My thoughts are too restless, racing and relentless
I’m pacing now, like a straitjacket-clad clown
Hush. I must keep quiet so I don’t wake my housemates
They mustn’t know the man they live with is looking for his marbles
I turn the telly on
Dave with repeats of Mock the Week
Love sex, Durex
Quips and consumerism
I turn the telly off
Until fatigue finds me
Until, upon my double bed
Slumber sends me away to
Dreams I can’t recall
I’m waiting, sitting, sighing
Temporarily insane

Ricky Gillies is primarily a poet and occasional short story writer with a fondness for melancholy and alliteration.

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