“Insomnia” is a presence that slips
into bed with you without your permission. It gets under the covers, steals
your pillow, rests its nasty head upon your shoulder, and lays itself down
beside you – and there is not one darn thing you can do about it! You twist and
turn, sit up at the edge of the bed, pace the room, and gaze out your window –
yet it’s still there following you and standing next to you every step of the
way. “Insomnia” stalks you, terrorizes you, and doesn’t give up.
One night I decided to embrace
“Insomnia”. I couldn’t see it, but I knew it was there. I introduced myself
with tired eyes and a half-smile, then moved closer to the far right of my bed
and just let “Insomnia” sleep to the left. I felt its heartbeat, sensed its
touch, and smelled its wicked scent. How ironic, I thought. “Insomnia” gets to sleep in my bed, while it keeps me up
all night. So I decided to talk to
it. I told it stories about my day, and tried to add some humor to my words. I
thought the conversation would help put “Insomnia” to sleep and, perhaps, allow
me to fall asleep as well. It didn’t work, however.
I knew “Insomnia” was listening, but it didn’t respond. It
didn’t even laugh at my jokes. I came to the realization that “Insomnia” was far
from friendly, which is something I knew all along; so why waste time trying to befriend it. It’s just a lonely,
malicious foe, looking for a place to hang out. So I let it stay in my bed,
while I got up and walked over to my laptop and wrote a poem all about
“Insomnia”. I named the poem “The Waltz of Ghouls”, since it’s actually a bizarre
dance that occurs in everyone’s bedroom, at the darkest hour, forcing you to
stay awake.
Once the poem was completed, “Insomnia” magically disappeared
from my bed, and I got under the covers and fell fast asleep. I present to you,
my friends, “The Waltz of Ghouls”:
THE WALTZ OF
GHOULS
Have you
known the torment from the darkest hours of the night?
Where wicked, whirling skeletons
dance ‘til morning light?
Their shadows
breathe quite heavily
as
they tip-toe ‘cross your bed
ascending
to the ceiling…drifting overhead
Their
melancholy hissing echoes in your ears
Tapping at your heart, rousing
all your fears
Blanketing your
weary soul with rash, undaunted fury
raping
all your virtues
playing
judge and jury
The Waltz of
Ghouls has just begun at this haunting hour
For there is no refuge –
nocturnal demons are in power!
You may
close your eyes to their performance and force the curtain down
yet your soul will dwell amongst
them
they will offer
you the Crown
A Queen they
seek to rule their haven as they gather where they may
But No! This shall not happen while you turn and look
away
…the dark is gone! The light has come!
…now they are lost in “day”
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