Insomnia Poem, no.71

Silence is the worst.
Noise - chatter, radio, songs, traffic - is a defence against the darkness, barricading the turrets of my mind against the invading army of intrusive thoughts.
Night is the hardest.
Light - lifegiving, solar beauty - fills my days with hope. When I can see the world, it feels less scary. The imagination is safely locked away.

My inner demon is a cunning foe.
He hides, he listens, he picks out key phrases from conversations and throws them at me when I'm alone and unguarded.
He whispers in my ear when I am feeling joyous, reminding me that I don't deserve this, that it will end.

I wish I had the power to control him.
I wish I could laugh off his comments.
I wish his twisted wisdom didn't influence how I feel.
I wish my love for others wasn't altered by his lies.
I wish I could destroy him, as easily as he destroys me.
I wish he was as powerless as I feel when he controls me.
I wish I could shut him the fuck up.

RC 12-11-23