"THE STENCH OF INSOMNIA"

   alien methane palls
   and vomit-green ammonia vapors
   spread in my chamber

   shadowy silhouettes of insomnia
   lurk
   like wolfhound packs
   around the carrion

   wormholes to the kingdom of sleep are barred

   i open the veins of anxiety's arch-angels,
   a bleed-through between levels of reality and perception

   stranded in dimensional fossa
   am i
   overcome by emotions

   Hypnos throws a lasso
   through the introitus
   which i miss
   again…

   sedative and hallucinatory
   floating clouds of miasma

narcoleptic deities in charge of the world
are tangled in the threads of time

   the horse-flies crawl
   upon this sultry humid flesh tonight

stenches of anxiety and perspiration
pearls of sweat and stinking fabric
insomniac evangelion writings on the wall :
i ruminate on my nocturnal angst graffiti !

   i feel the sour rot of sleeplessness
   vibrate the very hairs of my nostrils  

   vapors from the interdimensional scrap heap
   fill these tragic sleeping quarters tonight

i can hear, when i so try, but quietly in my midst
the sluggish march of anteaters
make way through the Ursa Major
beneath the fourteenth moon of Saturn

i can hear, when i so try, but quietly in my midst,
the feral paws of a feline God
chasing the spoor of an astral moose
upon the heavenly tapestry

   my head is hastily shaven
   and smitten with dandruff and scabs
   my skin is torn and xerotic
   and insects crawl upon it
   as i, once again,
   am banished from the kingdom

the pupae dwells in every stale bog
beneath the heliacal ascension of Sirius
in their insectile repose :
i am not allowed to enter !

i circle around my dwelling-place
as if a mosquito around a cistern during dog days
alone and cold, unable to rest :
dreams arrest in malign insomniac spells –
what did i do to deserve this ?

   i wish no longer to enter my bed-chamber,
   but who am I to refuse the gift of Hypnos ?

   i wish i was haunted by ghosts !
   then, i could fear the darkness
   for another reason

   i would rather sleep with mares and demons
   than to be forever-awake, even if in paradise

   i wish insomnia upon my worst enemy :
   it is an excellent way to break the human spirit