Night falls and sent with it the angst of insomnia.
Worn out yet awake, weary yet unable to dream.
How cruel the mind is in its games.
Games the mind plays.
Images in fantasy of a woman not here and yet imagined.
Not kissed or held this night but possessing the thoughts of a man
The mind in turmoil from one task to another none finished all awash and all agitated
Morn arrives as sleep hastens, life is upside down in so many ways