Out the corner of my eye
I see that Sleep is passing by.
Dreams and yawns are in the air;
they swoop and swing and hover there.
The light of sun has aged to sighs
of thoughts that dwell on hours by,
and moonlight wanders, fresh and fair,
farther than the sunlight dared.
Like fingernails across my heart
where ache like blood flows out
in a misery of doubt
and frenzied strokes of art,
a madness and a shout
that echoes in the ear
like the shrieks and screams of fear
of an army turned to rout,
I am cut by steel-edged swords,
darts of darkness, and your words.