Spectrum

sleep plays coy tonight, wavering in my periphery like some vestige of a drug-induced haze. insomnia, rare and bewildering as sunlight during a storm, assumes an unsettling hold over this domain and thrusts open the gates. and here they come. here comes now the mad horde of ghosts, the past lives and connections and emotions and meanings and dead, dread weight. there was a time, incredibly, when every single one of these was so vital and significant, warm to the touch. now how they mingle and blur like rain, cascading all around my crumpled form in cold sheets. their once vibrant colors have been reduced to grey shades, yet their requiems remain always audible in the depths of memory, quiet rolling thunder with bursts of chaotic tempests. they keep crashing in in waves, a staggering swarm of them, and oh! how they clamor, how they leave me restless here in this echo chamber of steps and shadows.