Crazed with fatigue; behind burning eyelids,
I address Insomnia, face to face with filigree cunning bid;
Leave me be, tomorrow you may have your way with me.

He turns to hide his mirth behind a hand
and throws me a worry; did I pay the maid?

For a mischievous moment he allows Morpheus the stage,
I slip, slowly; so sublime.
But! ohsosudden! I’m sliding, falling!
I sit up with a start,
panic throbs a voodoo drumbeat in my blood.

I turn to him, in the watery smirk of the fridge door,
Well then, what’s your pleasure?


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10 Comments Add yours

  1. nrhatch says:

    Cindy, this is so perfectly expressed.

    Pass me the Rocky Road . . .

    1. theonlycin says:

      It was a very long night and seems it will be followed by a grueling day.

  2. slpmartin says:

    As always I shall savory the rest of your poems with my morning coffee…a ritual that I have grown to enjoy…but as for this one..I shall go to bed with a smile on my face…wondering what you took from the fridge?

    1. theonlycin says:

      A glass of milk to soothe a sick child back to sleep 🙂

  3. Smander says:

    love this. I love the reference to voodoo. Creates some interesting images. Nice one.

  4. Krokodil says:

    This is an experience I am too too familiar with. Well described!

    1. theonlycin says:

      It’s very frustrating, especially when I’m actually dead tired.

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