SLEEPLESS

SLEEPLESS

Sleepless I hang on the gallows at night,
The overnight deejay my rod and my staff.

The tunes roll on by, caressing these walls
‘til the darkness fades at last.

Sleepless I watch as the sheep get away,
Those crafty creatures of fleece and deceit.

Evading my capture, escaping my count,
Taunting me with the sound of their bleat.

A man’s deprived who cannot dream,
My hours pass long and lonely.

The moon shines distant through my window,
The hoot owl keeps me company.

The coyote howls in the distant hills
And the warm milk and the sleeping pills
Are experiments that fail.

A man’s forlorn whose eyes won’t close,
Whose pirate ship won’t sail.

Restlessly I walk the plank,
My canvas sterile, dull and blank.
My spirit damp as a prison camp,
My heart a dismal holding tank.

Wide awake I toss and turn,
The sadistic Sandman stifles a laugh.

Sleepless I swing on the gallows at night,
The overnight deejay my rod and my staff.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2007
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED