by Aidan Andrew Dun



Here’s a man
who can’t sleep
who waits for sleep
sleep won’t come
it never comes:
insomniac hell

He lies awake
no more sleep
no dream-state:
sleep’s late
day can wait.

The prison of love
where love dies
is this darkness
wherein lies
a dying man who
softly cries

On his own
he’ll haunt the streets
with angry tears
to change stone
walk till dawn
or die alone.

Some don’t sleep
they don’t love
a fake world
they are awake:
pray to them now
for pity’s sake.

Love promised
in small hours
one dream-night
all would come right
now love takes it back
with failing powers.

No more sleeping
uneasily keeping
watch over this
broken bliss, here
flesh is weeping
sorrow’s reaping.

A heart has hit
the lowest hell
no sleep, no dream
no death to tell
the heart it’s over
no passing-bell.