another sleepless night

    
   
   
the devil you know    
walks in your shadow,    
sounds    
bells and whistles,    
   
throws ticker tape    
parades for the    
bemused and the    
dammed,    
   
inflicts rattlesnake    
bites on the face    
of Venus    
   
and breaks the    
heater in my    
car,    
   
but I'm too tired    
to write about that    
now.    
   
the arms of alarm    
clocks move like    
small, subtle    
assassins in    
the boney    
night    
   
and i ponder    
the    
questions    
of:    
   
IF TWO WRONGS    
DON'T MAKE A    
RIGHT...    
   
THEN DO THEY    
MAKE A LEFT?    
   
does Napoleon's    
penis look like    
a shriveled    
eel?    
   
if nothing matters,    
then are holes    
important?    
   
while outside the    
parade continues,     
playing a song by    
Charles Ives.    
   
...ahh    
   
the devil brings    
such strange    
thoughts to    
mind,  
   
and night is a  
play with no  
ending

as sleep runs
away like a
frightened
rabbit across
moonlit fields
of frost.