What Brilliance From Yawning Window Breaks.

What Brilliance From Yawning Window Breaks?

In the wee hours
that psychopaths, drunks 
and insomniacs frequent,
I sit here wide awake, 
killing only time.

No longer consumed 
by the bottle
but battling with 
bottled up emotions.

I usually find myself 
able to get a grip,
but only on a pen, 
and my convictions 
that are locked 
tightly inside 
my brain cells,
can only be freed by 
my dancing fingers
fiddling with the keys.

Eventually the sandman 
grows tired of waiting,
and storms out, 
flinging a dust-devil 
of sleep dirt in my eyes
that drives me 

to tented sheets.

What is physical 
is often stronger
then what I know 
as inner strength.

My muscled hands 

could go on typing 
or scribbling for hours
but without motivation
I would simply be 
documenting gibberish.

Why am I driven 
to capture
my elusive soul
and bind it 
in a paper prison?
Does anyone else 
long to be the 
warden of their dreams?

Sometimes my 
late night shifts
of pressing thoughts
into fine whines 
exposes my dark side.

This leaves many 

crumpled balls of failure
shot with heated rage
like bullet-tins
against the wall.
while I sit ankle deep 
in a pile of 
man-made snowballs.

But at other times 
I grow giddy
as the gods grace my
sacrifice of time
with blessings penned. 

You will see such phenomena
whenever you are out late, 
cruising on a lonely highway,
You'll notice one lighted window
in a vast field of darkness.

Perhaps it is just the wail
of a newborn rousing 
its semi-unconscious 

caretakers,
but it could be
the cry of a poet
taking hold of his consciousness 

and rousing it with great care.