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The Stench of Insomnia
THE STENCH OF INSOMNIA
narcoleptic deities in charge of the world
are tangled and detangled in the threads of time
they are sardonic and bitter and out for revenge
alien methane palls
and vomit-green ammonia vapors
spread in my chamber
shadowy silhouettes of insomnia lurk
like wolfhound packs around the carrion
i see the burrowed casts of happy people
but i am unfit to crawl them
tonight
the wormholes to the kingdom of sleep are barred
for me
i open the veins of anxiety's arch-angels,
a bleed-through between levels of reality and perception
stranded in dimensional fossa
am i
overcome by emotions
Hypnos throws a lasso
through the introitus
which i miss
once again…
sedated yet awake i float
on a cloudery of sleepless miasma
the horse-flies crawl
upon this sultry humid flesh tonight
stenches of anxiety and perspiration
pearls of sweat and stinking fabric
insomniac evangelion writings on the wall :
i ruminate on my nocturnal angst graffiti !
i feel the rot of sleeplessness
vibrate the very hairs of my nostrils
vapors from the interdimensional scrap heap
fill these tragic sleeping quarters tonight
i can hear, when i so try, but quietly in my midst
the sluggish march of ant-eaters
make way through the Ursa Major
beneath the fourteenth moon of Saturn
i can hear, when i so try, but quietly in my midst,
the feral paws of a feline God
chasing the spoor of an astral moose
upon the heavenly tapestry
my head is hastily shaven
and smitten with dandruff and scabs
my skin is torn and xerotic
and insects crawl upon it
as i, once again,
am banished from the kingdom
the pupae dwells in every stale bog
beneath the heliacal ascension of Sirius
in their insectile repose :
but i am not allowed to enter !
i circle around my dwelling-place
as if a mosquito around a dog-day cistern
alone and cold and unable to rest :
my dreams arrest in this malign insomniac spell –
what did i do to deserve this ?
i wish no longer to enter my bed-chamber –
but who am I to refuse the gift of Hypnos ?
i wish i was haunted by ghosts !
then, at least, i could fear this darkness
for another reason
i would rather sleep with mares and demons
than to be forever-awake, even if in paradise
i wish insomnia upon my worst enemy :
it is an excellent way to break the human spirit
Copyright ©
E. R. Ryttersson
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