Silent Basement (Ode to a Sleepless Night)

I have been sitting on my bed in the basement since 12 a.m.-- wielding my eyes to close, my mind to shut off my breathing to be normal It's 4 a.m. now and still no sleep. The silence in the house envelopes me like a dreary aura of sleepful vengeance- creaks of beds of the turning slumbered bodies that lie in them, I hear. Hearing my pocket watch on the nightstand leisurely tick-tocking by, reminding of the time flying by. I can hear my thoughts run wild into an indigenous nothingness-- the potent sound I hear now is my pencil shuffling on this measly sheet of paper to get my unslumbered unsuccumbed thoughts down. To myself is my bed and these unruly sounds that are like hunting poignant footsteps, unrelinquishing are my thoughts to bid me adieu to this basement of these little sounds. Neigh, my eyes doth depart sleep from me- leaving me tortured in my calm yet perturbed world. A snore I hear from a room upstairs of a father and mother long asleep- a shuffle of sisters' bodies shifting in their beds, A faint feathery breath of a brother lost in dreams. It's 4:22 a.m. and sleep doth not still find me. I must bid adieu to my faithful comrades of pen and paper that hath served me well to put thoughts of a dreary sleepless night to rest. Yet I do not rest.