Here I am again,
chasing that elusive sleep.
I keep trying in vain,
for sweet slumber and I to meet.
Perhaps it's the alluring moon
that keeps my mind in motion?
Synapses firing in the brain making me into a loon.
A condition that cannot be cured even by that wonderful potion.
It's commotion with a preconceived notion,
but in this state, the notion remains hidden,
triggered by my deepest emotions.
Those that, even for me, remain forbidden.
My brain, constantly riddled,
no matter night or day,
or even how much I've fiddled,
these demons I cannot slay.
If I run faster instead of laying waste,
maybe I can catch that blue moon
and hold it in my warm embrace,
perhaps convincing it to sing my tune.
Shall I dare try again?
Oh, this monotonous dread!
Possibly this relationship we can mend,
for I shall again try to slumber in my bed.
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I can imagine you could not sleep...typing or writing these words in the blank white square of silence..
ReplyDeleteI admire your feelings.
As for the comment about " Lost souls", it's true that you can be alive and dead. but if you are dead...you cannot be alive!
Sometimes we have to be lost, for a while, so we can find the real us.
Hi Hurricane... Nice poetry you have here.
ReplyDeleteI have trouble sleeping too. Sweet dreams.
"My brain, constantly riddled,
ReplyDeleteno matter night or day,
or even how much I've fiddled,
these demons I cannot slay."
This statement gripped me pretty hard--touching poem Hurricane Me.
chase it, you can defeat...
ReplyDeleteexcellent. i felt (and have felt) exactly what you so eloquently describe here.
ReplyDelete