Insomniac

3:57 odd time to be a- wake. I lay slowly, adrifting away- awake. the Insomniac beat... yes it benches and bangs, an anvil god's trinkets and toys bring pain- much pain. oh!- you- Aphrodite- Queen of Misery. What must I say- for I am in your mercy. Foulest trickery ImparTs your anger, sharp daggers, the candor of mute stranglers descend upon and anchor roughly tonight here inside. I tear- I tear- I am torn. what more than a minute I have spent in Guilt, becomes hours, perhaps years, I know not, I can not, perhaps---amend? For words of yours breath life to mine And take life from me as -well.