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Poem

They dance around my head at night; trying to steal my sleep;
Women I’ve desired, a place I want to be;
They sing a song I’ve heard but don’t know;
And in the song that they now sing; in my heart fear creeps.
   The clock continues clicking on; and sleep is yet to come;
   I’ve tossed and turned; I’ve moaned and sighed;
   While the dancers laugh incessantly and all begins to twitch;
   And I fear that I may lose my mind; before this night is done.
Staring at the image; that is staring back at me;
I depict a painted picture; of a story done in rhymes;
And I query with myself; is this required insanity for the form;
Or perhaps the form is a by-product; of reason I can’t see.
   And yes the freaks come out at night; when most slumber;
   They sing and yell; while they swim throughout my head;
   Are they trying to prevent the him inside from coming out;
   They’re trying to prevent him from bringing the thunder.


                           “Insomniac”
                  The melodies of sleeplessness;
                  From face’s filled with sorrow;
                  And eye’s so filled with emptiness;
                  Leave a mixture cooked to tallow.

                  Swaying to the rhythms;
                  Repeating words that haunt;
                  They rob your time of living;
                  And at your misery taunt.

                  And the clock it has its numbers;
                  But is it now or yesterday;
                  And the damage done encumbers;
                  Till you’re screaming go away.

                  Imaginary demons;
                  Concocted in the mind;
                  Perhaps they are the reasons;
                  Why I write these lines.

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