A Shakespearean Soliloque Re-Write

To sleep, or not to sleep: that is the question:
Whether ’tis better in the end to succumb
To the gentle pull of dreams,
Or to resist the urge and use that time,
And by resisting lose precious awareness;
To lay– no useful thought inside my head
Hours on end of aimless mind wand’ring
Or make the best of lightless hours of night.
Deeply, my mind desires to rest–
To rest, hoping for a new day, better than the last,
For each day leaves me baffled, b’wildered, wond’ring.
Yet is not the dreaming state the same?
Though waking hours are oft taxing and arb’trary,
They are at least under my own control.
Whereas in the deepest dark of night,
My thoughts race through my head unchecked,
As bit by bit, years of my life are stol’n,
And time flies by, an unstoppable force.
To sleep means sacrificing discernment,
But no sleep means to sacrifice the same.
Is it better, then, to roam at night,
Or to achieve the day?
Shall I spend my time improving my loves,
Or instead merely hope,
While feeling free?
The stars, for all their splendor, are
Great symbols of my strife,
For slumber is a detrimental
Element of life.
But still, I wonder, as daft as it seems–
Could it not be done away with
Through a bit of strong caffeine?
An insomniac, I’m not,
For sleeps comes to me with ease.
Stuffborn is surely a better word.
But what have I to lose from hours when no one else is standing?
Tonight, I will take dwelling in the bottom bunk,
And in the morning, I’ll be roused again.