Raised up to the lips –
A glass overflowing with
Moonlight and stardust

From sleeping to waking
A half instant’s surge.
Adrenaline spiking,
All senses alert
And seeking the reason,
The cause for this scene.
But the darkness is total,
The silence complete.
Senses relax, and the mind
Starts to sleep.
Then a small furtive rustle
Jerks me back from the deep.
The darkness and silence
Are empty, serene,
But the cause of the rustle 
Waits there unseen.
A night full of waking
Is plenty to scheme:
A bag full of mousetraps –
The cost of sweet dreams.

A single candle –
A solo wick with two flames:
Dying twice as fast.

Even in sleep, it calls
With haunting tones & shifting keys:
A melody of dreams, interwoven.
Un-nameable and ir-replicable –
Felt and seen, the mind sings in slumber.
The soundtrack of the soul is
A tumultuous tune – taunting and teasing
With unspeakable beauty and
Unplayable progressions.
An encompassing air –
Filling thoughts and hopes
It flirts then flees:
Ever there and
Forever out of reach.

Tick Tick Tack Tick
Keys are typed, a frenzied fit
Tack Tack Tick-Tick-Tick
Undo, erase, move on with it.

Clicking clatter, a clutter of clicks
Words flow out as the plot flows in.
The clicking stops, silence begins:
A pause to think, a sip of gin

Tick Tack Tick-Tack-Tick
Fingers fly with a manic grin
Tikkety Takkety Takkety Tick
The author goes in for the win,

On a roll as the story spins:
Victory is a horrible din.

Pulsing like a storm,
It throbs again and again:
Thought inhibitor

Spinning in the air
Like a Ferris wheel on its side,
Tilted and useless.

Unable to touch the ground,
To get traction,
To move away or toward.

The wheel can only spin
And watch the other wheels
Rolling merrily by.