Insomnia

Insomnia
By D.J. Strokes 25


Black shadows dance enthusiastically across an illuminated wall
Covers are flung restlessly in a crumpled heap
A shifting mass rolls over violently in torment

It has begun.

First, the eyes resist the beckoning call to open
They know what bitter fate awaits them
It does not, it will not!
Yet, like a struggling door flap, it gives in

The body moves ever so slightly, fearing the loss of rest
All sleep, all the weight of slumber is gone
Thwarted, it must awaken
But, wait! The world says it is not yet time.

A peculiar dark object nesting on the floor flashes a startling red
“Three-twenty AM”, it harkens.
“Time for bed and rest in the wee hours of the morning!”
The body cannot comply

The mass…the person…the creature of the night... awakens
Groaning in agony, they curse their predicament
Slumber is needed and desired, yet slumber will not come
“Fight.” It says. “Fight it.”
Use the chief to fight and conquer the tribe!
The tribe wins.

A shameful defeat means undeserved amusement.
It is not the time.
A white device must satisfy the ears
The magical world of a novel must satisfy the brain
However, the body, reveling in the strange world of night, cannot be appeased.

Hours pass
Beyond the battlefield of struggle, the sun arises
Bursting in a chromatic splendor, she relays her ancient message
“A new day is breaking”

The body hears the call
Letting down his arms, he can finally surrender
He must. He has a future duty to perform.
The sleep, the weight of slumber returns
The eyes, glad for passivity once again, droops

Covers are grabbed mercilessly for comfort
Shadows vanquish by the light of day
The mass…the person…the tired fellow...
Sleeps.