Insomina feeds Depression

I wish I could sleep
When the grief seeps deep
I wish I didn't feel so hollow
To have much less than there is to swallow.

The chemical composition
That results in the condition
Might ignore its position
Might agree on omission

If perhaps, just perhaps
I could fathom collapse
And at the other end of death
Just a slice, catching a breath

By then, I hope
But know not the scope
It will fester merely
At the edge, just nearly

Of the conscious mind
Thus rendering me blind
I'm quite gladly oblivious
And quite frankly, lascivious.

Many surmise but few realize
That slices of death legalize
The insomnian drug
But me, I just shrug

Devoid of emotion
Not devoid of devotion
Life in slow motion
A supersticious notion.

The battle, however,
Keeps raging forever
Between two parts of my brain
One is logic, the other insane.

One in a tired mentality, the other in pain
One is materiality, the other the reign
The other has queries, but one is weary
The other has theories, but one is dreary.

In the end, just decide
And prepare to abide
Because body and mind
They're both intertwined.

I wish I felt more than I do
And when I do,
I wish I felt less
Just to be much less of a mess.

So long, and thanks for all the fish
Emperor, out.