Cracks On My Ceiling

My ceiling contains six cracks, or so I have gathered
Insomnia, after all, teaches its pupils many strange things
Somehow, it crept up on me, completely unawares
REM; I need it, but it so stubbornly refuses to give in to my silent plea
I've finished all my books, listened to too many cds to count
Insomnia is the time and the place that my emotions fester
They linger and expand and boil over,
Spinning off new ideas while skewering others on points of validation
Obscurity, unsurity, why, insomnia brings it all
So here I am, lying awake, perfect prey for this insomnia
My innermost thoughts are open game on this hunting ground
Those simple cracks on my ceiling have been the most improbable trigger of so many things on this sleepless night...