Insomnia

A sleepless conscious' inner monologue.

A man who walks across my dreams,

brings images dripping in black.

With him comes a thousand eyes,

staring up and down my back. 

There's a chill in my bones,

a deep frost has set in my heart.

Night has set inside me,

its fingers tearing me apart.

An ache, oh, and ache,

it's blossomed inside me.

The branches creep up my throat,

the crushing power brings me to my knee.

My panic is subdued by guilt,

by a sadness sitting on my chest.

With every second it grows heavier,

and so grows my monumental state of unrest. 

A man who walks across my dreams,

he brings a billowing, decaying ghost.

He walks with steps as quiet as death,

and within my tired mine has found a host.

The thoughts in my mind are breaking,

in the cracks the man who destroys my dreams will creep.

While I can't bare to keep my self awake any longer,

it is better if I don't go to sleep.