I shut my eyes to kill the light,
But cannot keep from my ears the noises of the night.
Sighing breathes remind me I live yet,
Despite the strangled feeling of a dolphin caught in a fisherman’s net.

My corpse is weak and needs restoring sleep;
But despite the blackness all around,
The internal lights refuse to dim;
Whirling, swirling, never slowing, while I weep.

Morpheus’s heart is cold, his ears deaf to my plea.
“But my poor and weary soul cannot continue on this journey,
I cannot go on without a little rest!” I cried.
So impassively, the comfort of slumber is still denied.

In this eleventh hour, I sought aid from a different God.
Anything to stop it, to end this tortuous test,
I would seek a fierce and fiery demon,
No matter if red fanged and clawed.

So I said a new prayer to release me from my agony,
And Bacchus in his gleeful mischief, listened eagerly.
He answered my prayer, his words so slippery,
Whispering such seeming simple and easy solutions to my misery.

“Drink and be Merry!” is his jubilant command,
And I obey so eagerly, believing finally I have found an end,
To this long and restless expedition I had never wanted to begin.
I gulp, I glug, I guzzle, my communion from the bottle in my hand.

But down, down down, that dark road spiraled,
Until I could no longer see the light even in the day.
Morals, love, life, nothing seeming vital;
Only continuing on the path so set and following it anyway.

But how to break from this viscous twisted trap;
Free disciple from dark master and return,
To the gentle fold of sweet and natural sleep?
This terrifying trek must be made lacking guide or map.


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