Couple of modern sonnets

I've cut some of the I's out of these, but not all. Do they still make sense?

I walk the silent streets alone at night
And stand bereft on corner islands lit
By graceless rays, while thinking that I might
Attempt to find some quiet place to sit.
In coffee-houses, dark and filled with smoke,
I struggle with ideas that mean nought
And heard the coffee-poets who revoke
Their own poetic licences when caught.
In institutions filled with weary brains
I wrestle with the concepts that are bound
To cause my death. At times there is such pain,
I wonder if my body would be found.
Condemned to highs and lows, this is my plight:
To walk the silent streets alone at night.

The Migraine
Hot pokers sear my mind, and in my brain
The lights -- electric blue and blinding white --
Impede my view. The fireballs in flight
Appear upon the edge of sight, then wane.
The agony has dimmed, to my delight.
But now, in cotton wool, I feel the strain
Of looking through a telescope in vain
Because it's turned around – the oddest sight.
Well finally, when throbs begin to wane
As medication dulls and puts to flight
Incessant thoughts about my head, I'm quite
Relieved to be no longer in such pain.
But now, compulsive chatter's at its height:
Murmuring thoughts, while rushing through the night.