The Dream About Insomnia

In the dream about insomnia,
fitful fears are freed all night
awake to run scenarios
of all that might occur.

Powerless to change the path
they blindly hide a growing wrath
and follow where the frightful flee
to dark and stormy sky.

The wet of April’s cruelty
descends like crazy mist at sea,
and hangs like clouds, invisibly
like death upon the morn.

Breathing somehow weaponized,
conspiracies all realized,
a nightmare angry world devised
to stop us fast in place.

Network anchors broadcast fears,
the poison enters in the ears,
the city bathes in painful tears,
a baptism too late.

While crooked whys attack the chorus,
harrowed lies soak into porous
minds that can’t escape the horrors
of the sudden void.

They pray to gods of cold sweat morn
to guarantee another dawn,
and wake from endless nightmares on
the screens both large and small.

For every loss a blanket tossed,
a ganglia of nerves crisscrossed,
no sleep allowed as solitude
becomes a traitor’s tell.

Vicious wishes echo back
the loveless moans of all we lack,
the ignorance that can’t distract
from facts we can’t ignore.

Hell says hello, welcome friend,
as restlessness extends a hand.
We’re bound up in a devil’s plan
from which there’s no escape.

In the dream about insomnia,
the plague invites hysteria,
awake we run but get nowhere,
the future’s not assured.

Gary Glauber