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What are you waiting for?
Nocturnal Oppression
Existence is ethereal in those tenuous moments
when you sit on the cliff's edge of your consciousness.
Free falling upwards suspended by the nightmare
that does not wait for you to sleep.
Sleep, some call it elusive.
No, sleep is the taunting schoolyard bully
getting more satisfaction from keeping
the flames of fear stoked
while the punishment of a beating
would be more than welcome.
A finality in either direction would lift
your sentence in the purgatory of insomnia.
Shades of gray rule here as the only black and white
visible is the gi and the black belt
of the master manipulator and tormentor.
You can almost hear the chuckle under his breath
as you scavenger hunt for distractions.
Distractions to either bore you into finally submitting
to the sandman or to arouse you to total awareness.
After the battle the sanctuary of your room
transforms into a torture chamber where the guard
delights in putting the rations of food just
centimeters out of your reach.
Should you at last grab hold of the brass ring,
too late you realize it was the pin to the grenade
now sending the shrapnel of your comfort
in all directions as your carousel endlessly spins.
Even the animals are dozing peacefully, mockingly.
All you can hear now are the echoes when you finally reach victory.
