insomnia

the voice in the down spout at three am old familiar you speaking imperceptible secrets all the mumbles in the world's rubble crying in hysterical whispers buried beneath an inch of water i understand only a few moments in a life that dreams it is passing itself without touching but is audible behind the beating drums my hair and my hands betrayed you my bad breath my thoughts running riot in the rain my skin flakes off my scalp holding a splitting headache together foot in a vice a shoe in a soul none of it laying lazily on a tounge used over the hour paged and alarmed rehearsed by now all at once always it is all of sudden and it speaks in a downpour and drizzles through the gray sun there is talk of a gun a son of a son once more once it is begun the pile at the footprint the stint of rash regaling before the night quits and the whistles scream i cannot sleep i cannot dream