Always awake, Always asleep

How do the hours go by so fast?
A half moon peers through the crack in the shade
tinkering on the brink of dawn and drags with it
each thought still chasing the last
into the light of the morning.

Sleep, to wake, where my mind leaps
onto the carousel of rumination
and remains there; coming round again
of some unwilling volition it keeps
me sleepless as each night before.

Weary as the witching hour that wakes me
Silence is all I have been bequeathed;
Cold sheets, a cat that's too fat
and memories far too heavy
for even slumber to erase anymore.