Creative Conspiracy Date Written 26/01/2008 Poem by Clare McWilliams

My body aches and longs for sleep
But my brain and pen conspire to disallow it.
The words slop and swill in a messy bucket of creative juice.
And my bones die slowly this night in my withering skin.

Eyelids droop yetdo not close- water
But strain to keep the windows of my mind open.
Neck seizes rather than wilts into the pillow,
Whilst the verse-full sleepless night goads me.

Sensibility ignored in a stream of stanzas
Frenzied firing of slovenly synapses.

' WRITE ME- WRITE ME', screams the personified poem.
'YOU MUST- Or i will BECOME-
Become what you most fear- your own madness.'

'TAKE HEED OF ME...
For I am ever-present in your pleasure,
Your pain and pitiful physical phthisis.
I will die with you, gift that I am.
And someone will thank you for my words one day'