often it is the only
thing
between you and
impossibility.
no drink,
no woman's love,
no wealth
can
match it.
nothing can save
you
except
writing.
it keeps the walls
from
failing.
the hordes from
closing in.
it blasts the
darkness.
writing is the
ultimate
psychiatrist,
the kindliest
god of all the
gods.
writing stalks
death.
it knows no
quit.
and writing
laughs
at itself,
at pain.
it is the last
expectation,
the last
explanation.
that's
what it
is.
from blank gun silencer - 1991

Yet another restless night,
Has passed me by,
My tired eyes barely open,
However, I find myself,
Incapable of unconsciousness,
My mind,
Aching with sleeplessness,
Tired of thought,
Longing to give in,
To dreams, to sleep,
But something within,
Rejects such simple necessities,
And gives me over,
To insomnia