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Insomnia.
Through the window’s frosted glass I stare
Wide unfocused eyes gaze fixated, focused, fascinated
On a pinpoint of light in a seemingly endless darkness
In the distance he calls to me
That soft-spoken sandman with his promise of soundless sleep
A sickeningly sweet offer for my weary bones
And my brain wishes it were truth
Lies, Lies, Lies
Mutters my muted mind
Residual footsteps from our last encounter echo
Echo through the deprived reaches of a tired brain
Lies, Lies, Lies.
Sleep is no longer an escape
It is a prison
Bars crafted with the plague of incessant dreaming
The mockingbirds sing praises of slumber
Of vibrant hues and gallant voyages
But no rainbows of color wait for me if I surrender
No seemingly meaningless swirls of conversations and events
Only meticulously targeted infestations
All consuming fire and darkness
Only fear
The orange glow of the faceless clock grimaces
Swallowing every preceding digit in an unchanging pattern
Drops of resolute rain cling to the gutter with desperate fingers
I listen in anguish as every drop is forced to fall
The splatter against the metal can’s lid a reminder of their valiant attempt
Their fruitless struggle against gravity
I soldier on.
The sleepness nights mark me as their own
Smear purpled bruises beneath my faded eyes
Muddle my brain and haunt my waking hours
Draw me closer and closer to the dreams
Unrelenting, I lie in wait for the darkness to cease
Linger until the pink glow of morning peaks up over the horizon
Drooping eyes follow the ball of rising fire who whispers promises of a new day
A grateful sigh eases out from parted lips
I rise—war-torn and shattered—to face the light.
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