Insomniacs Poem by Payal Priya

12 o'clock
The irresistible call of the night,
Snoring consciences, a turbulent mind
And the temptation to amalgamate with the dark.
You curse the moonlight, that shift through the black clouds
You detest the damned streetlights,
They keep you awake
The world calls you an insomniac.

The tipsy shadows are your companions.
They have conquered the world;
With beer bottles in their hand.
In a ceremony,
Imps drag them to tortured houses;
Where the lady of the dark lies.
Wide awake,
Her petrified soul, na, a sty;
Made sinister by your sins.
O Lady, what keeps you awake?
Are they your sweet annihilated dreams?
Or your bruised body that aches?
Or your soul, a cancerous cell which kills itself?
Or are you too an insomniac?

The cold water dripping from the rusty pipes,
The stench from the drains,
And Silence stabbed on its back,
By the screams and shouts
As a couple brawls.
Dear couple,
Have you an aversion to silence?
Or are you too insomniacs?
In the grimy path, near these drains
Sits a herd of men,
Wrapped in some flimsy rag
Do the dogs see a companion in them?
Does the chilling wind disturb their sleep?
Or are they too insomniacs?

The muffled voices of some men
And then the evil spirit descends;
Machiavellian plans made by them;
To stab, to strangle, to poison, to kill;
To slit a throat, to rip a heart.
O Spirit of EVIL,
Why art thou ever pervasive in dark?
Is it the smell of her tresses?
Or her intoxicating music?
Or her sinning beauty?
That makes you a lover of the night
Or are you too an insomniac?

6 o'clock;
Sun rises in vain
Or maybe just to colour the sky
For it can just masquerade the dark
Hidden, the invincible dark stealthily awake
As humanity still in a torpor lies
O Humanity, art thou a hypersomniac
Or shall we search for thee in graves?