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Poem

In noctibus illorum gustum vigilatum est enim sermo...
 
It goes something like this:
Barely hanging by a thread
thinking, thinking over what I’ve read
and said
and spit out from the tip of this pen
Up late, awake when I should not be.
Should not be?
Who decides that for me
anyway?
Anyway, it always just so happens to be,
that I’m up so late when I should not be.
Head cocked to the right,
eyes drooping closed
but trying to fight
the heavy dose
of Sandman’s midnight special.
What is it girl? what do you want?
What are you hanging on for
when that warm tug of the Sandman’s leash
keeps pulling, pulling from ‘round the door
What itchy thought brings such delight
that you’d stay here all the live-long night
and wake up to the morning light
so dazed and sleep deprived
yet somehow so unfazed and so alive.
Desperation to become this thing you know you are,
overnight become a superstar.
Running on that final fume
but cannot miss, cannot miss that spark
No, gotta make some room
in this room, so dark
so nice
so dark
But sure as hell won’t fall asleep
in case I miss the rapping
of the muse,
tap tap tapping on my door.
She could be here any moment,
agitate my words and foment them
into a frenzied orchestra of…
 
**et in fine, cum dormivi et calamum in manum tuam**

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