Nocturnal Predators

Foreboding sharpening becoming less a thought
More a taste-bitter flavor of fear
Insomnia-nothing new
Forced into the wakeful state of reality
Wishing for the solace found in dreams
Suppressed sobs lost in a dry wind
Shivering through laced tree boughs
Waiting patiently for the nonexistent rain
To cleanse the soul, wash the stains clean
Whistling static drowns the calm required for sleep
Becoming hissing roars that stir wild thoughts
Like nothing is everything and everything is gone
And Hell is lying sleepless in the dark
Listening for the choir of wolves
Piping ululant wails
Their ghostly serenade-
A blood song melody
That preludes the kill
Singing of the strange hungers and gnawing needs
Of a starved heart which collapses into itself
With a slow current of dread that
Ripples like a fever chill
Those horrid thoughts that kill
Not in a way that leaves you dead only
Keeping you wide awake at night instead
Nocturnal hunters-stalking their prey
Insomnia-nothing new

© 2010 Lyndsey Warren