three o’clock
in the morning
a full day ahead
a sleepless night
halfway survived
as the wind chimes
serenade another
dreamless evening
of overwhelmingly
incomprehensible
anxiety and woe

circling the same
series of tracks
dead ends disguised
as roundabouts
mobius strips of
insomnial desire
sleep is an ocean
yet there seems to
be no escape from
shallows where the
predators wait

someone said that
moonlight is really
just sunlight still
depending on how
you choose to view it
yet the golden light
in wan silvery diffusion
leaves nothing but
tossing and turning
while the thoughts
scream endlessly

my entire existence
is tangled within
the witching hour
lost and alone as the
rest of the land
sleeps peacefully
a time for all of the
poets and madmen to
spin in their graves
muttering to themselves
in sleepy declarations