|Photo credit: www.greenewave.com|
Well, this doesn't happen often. It's 3:30 AM and I'm sitting here wide awake with my head and throat on fire. Sleep completely alludes me.
It's these damn allergies, I suppose. I mowed the lawn today and the pollen count must have been at record highs. This kind of thing usually does not bother me. But I guess that this is just one of the many 'perks' of getting older. Every year, I discover new allergies and ailments I never knew I had.
It seems writers suffer from insomnia more than other folks, and that remains a mystery to me. I can only imagine it has something to do with having a story in your head that simply must be written. I think this way too, and more often now.
Well, with nothing else to do but sit and look at my computer screen, I wrote a quick poem to express my thoughts of this sleepless nights. here it is:
Oh, those torrents of the dark
Those devilish, nocturnal things
Tonight, I joined them
Cast away the invitation to sleep
I cannot find rest
And my dreams have left in fear
Of the wilds in the night
I watch with untrusting eyes
As a cast of spirits taunt me
And hold my friend captive, just out of reach
Spirits so dark and deceitful
Even their shadows are not welcome
They are only darkness among shadows
And they hold slumber ransom
What ransom for sleep
Name it and I’ll pay
Although sleep will not be freed
I’ll pay my dues all the next day
Yep, I'm sitting here hoping that I might at least get sleepy. While most men in my position would eventually resort to surfing porn, I'll probably succumb to the lure of searching for the next typewriter in my collection.
Somehow I believe porn would be cheaper.