Sleepless

In the soft, amber twilight between lucidity and slumber lay my thoughts.

Words teasing and taunting

as I desperately try to sleep.

One, two, three.

I count to silence the thoughts

I seek so desperately during the day.

If only I could invent a way to transcribe

my thoughts as I lay in bed.

Twenty one, twenty two, twenty three.

Creativity surges through my body

like an electric flash.

All day, I search for that same surge.

If only I could plug into the half lucid mind.

I think about getting out a pencil.

Forty seven, forty eight, forty nine.

The minute I grab

a pen,

a pencil,

my phone,

anything to transcribe

what is coursing through my mind

the muses will scatter off on the coattails of a shooting star with a laugh at my misfortune.

Every night the torture continues.

I've tried silencing the voices with alcohol.

Seventy five, seventy six, seventy seven.

I'm so jealous of my husband's heavy breathing.

The silence is deafening.

Why must I bear this torture?

Vivid pictures dance through my head

asking to be released.

To be let into the world.

One hundred one, one hundred two, one hundred three.

Every night I tell myself the same lie,

I'll remember these brilliant ideas

and breathe them into life tomorrow.

Knowing the myth I'm telling.

Seeking the sweet solace of sleep.

One hundred fifteen, one hundred sixteen, one hundred seventeen.

My teeth hurt as I clench my jaw in desperation.

My back aches.

I contemplate getting up and writing.

Worrying I'll wake my slumbering partner.

I turn towards him and seek his warm hand.

One hundred thirty six, one hundred thirty seven, one hundred thirty eight, one hundred thirty…

And they're gone again.

Ghosts of my imagination to taunt me again.