When Sleep Won't Come--Part 2

When sleep won’t come I look behind my eyes

Where a thousand dismembered thoughts refuse

To come together into anything safe,

Or useful, or remembered.  Words float there

Above consciousness like banshee spirits;

Flitting silent fleeting as the firefly

Whose brief spark is but memory of light,

Image forgotten before it takes form.

Thoughts won’t hold still.  Ideas tug and pull

My mind like unruly children straining

To break free from mother’s fretful tether; 

Monsters that run amok in the aisles

Of the candy store; or worse, dash headlong

Toward rush hour traffic with no regard

For lifelong dreams, safety, or sanity.

When sleep arrives, nightmares and new born

Fears rush in; wild horses stampede consciousness,   

Crush dreams and flatten castles in the sky.

They charge into that land that lies between

Sweet fantasy and hard reality,

Trampling spirit and leaving me begging

For the morning to save me from myself.