Insomnia’s Whore


The time is 4.44.
I cannot endure
This madness anymore.
Thus I take to the floor.
Through my writing my voice will roar,
I have become Insomnia’s whore.

To my chamber he comes in the night
To have his way with me without a fight.
Perhaps I might
Make plight
At the meer sight
Of my ceiling’s height.

The time is 4.51
Anyone.
Shadows have long since gone.
They departed at one
when my desk lamp shone
Where is everyone?

The time is 5.04.
Of this I can take no more.
To the shores
of consciousness I soar.
My fingertips have the floor,
I have become Insomnia’s whore.

 

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