I stare into the chasm of my self
the canvas to which I create
listens only when the wind slows
and the moon stalks my waking dreams
Mindful of my impeding slumber
a twitch in the knee, an ache in the eye
as if to propagate a series of thoughts
and subjugate my tired internal clock.
Avast, for my mind doth seek silence
infiltrated though, by fabricated anxiety
until such a time that the veil falls
and finally, sleep takes hold.