Insomniatic Lust

My brain flattens upon a wall,
Erected in wanton unrest,

The act of shutting eyes draws on more,
And I am forced to watch,

Boredom's tickled tongue laps oxygen from my blood,
Sorrow's pangs whisper in the electrical whooshes of wind,

Curiosity walks,
Knowledge wallows in the hallows of my skull,

I am writing on the walls,
a nonstop tale of tolls,
Whose counted up the hours and days,
and tics of tocs upon the sweeping rhythm and rhyme,
of the ghostly darkened face hung by a rope,
down from the rafters of my mind

Slave to the wrenching wretch of clanking chains,
the mechanical wake and wale of wait,
cranking upwards in this night time cylinder,
it seeks to drop me down into the waters, 
and I must not drown,

Fingers mingle and break in twines between the links,
Thighs clench and dangle helplessly along the slackened slick, 
I bite my tongue and chew my cheek,
to eat my way out of this cage of noise,
into the silence of barren rock in the pale Arabian moon,

And my eyes never blink



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