‘Insomnipotence’ by Simon Rennie

Insomnipotence

These days I sleep too little or too much;
and while I like my life, or most of it,
sleep, as prize or foe, has the power to touch

each moment, to rule the roost as it sees fit
through lingering effect or potential.
Where did I go? Do I have to admit

that I am (I think therefore) not in full
command? Hereby destined to alternate
between giddy dislocation and slothful

drowse? My fear is that I hallucinate;
that one day, with leg spasm and arm swing,
I act out my dream self in desperate

battle with demons of half-lit evening, 
even as the sun shines and the birds sing.