Sleepless… again.

Words are playing with my sleep again…

only that this time they’re poetic.

They’re whispering and squirming

and tangling and fiddling into small verses here and there.

They tell me, they don’t wish to be forgotten. So I’ll put them down here.

……………………………

Time ticking,

troubles trail,

along the sleepy scent. 

Mimicking me,

mocking the mess,

in hours sleeplessly spent. 

Bolshie baits,

bedevil the brain,

of hours left to resent. 

Dusk decays,

darkness dawdles,

to haunt those that I repent. 

……………………………