Insomnia of a Manic Depressive

My eyes may sleep,
But it's a troubled soul,
That keeps this mind awake.

It's a sort of buzzing,
Like that of a thousand fighting bee's,
All begging to be set free.

They pulsate their fluttering wings,
Upon stricken nerve endings,
Constantly stinging their way out,
While burning the insides of your flesh.

This restless deprivation,
Has left a hungry thirst inside of me...
Even though,
I'm drowning amongst a flood of worries.
It's the kind that can drive any sane person,
To madness.

I'm not sure what reality is, anymore...
Or if maybe, I'm asleep.
Just living inside a nightmare,
Upon some insomniacs hallucination.
A dream, trapped within a dream.

And soon I fear,
The nights will swallow me whole...
As the demons cart away,
All that is left of this vigilant, aching heart.

And when I am gone,
All that will be left behind,
Is an "IOU" from Mr. Sandman.
Remnants of delayed and forgotten dust,
That came just a little too late.
Nestled upon,
An empty, tangled pillow.