Inhuman feeling of vulnerability;
being weak is almost welcome.
All this I ponder
on my bed of poisoned thorns,
seeing everything but my dearest enemy:
fatigue.
Crickets scream with laughter
at my crumpled excuse of a body,
my shell.
Outside is danger,
in black there is danger.
I am ever the guard,
the always awake vigil.
Deadly beautiful, the night cannot seduce me,
and I do not succumb to the
thickness of conformity.
I am the sleepless dreamer.
A contest entry
- once again - 4 OPTIONS (PW ALLOWED) by Rhythm Child.
400 points, ended January 24, 50 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What do you think?
Comments
-
ooooh i relate to this! sometimes the night is soo thick with thoughts and the darkness is not empty but so full of the contents of our heads...
my favorite part:
"Deadly beautiful, the night cannot seduce me"
it is appropriate that this poem is charged with such energy in the same way the insomniac is charged with energy dispite desiring rest. i enjoyed reading this. - NANGALEEMA
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