Susan P. Blevins

You think you can have a good night’s sleep
when I am coiled around your brain like a
tapeworm waiting to consume your peace of mind?
When you settle on your pillow and breathe out
the day’s despairs, thinking only of
sweet sleep, I sink deep into the crevices of your mind and
nibble at the edges of your coveted repose.
I sow the seeds of worry in your mind, and
cast the net of doubt and insecurity.
Am I really worthy of his love?
Does he truly think about me day and night?
Should I take the plunge and make that risky investment?
Was that a noise I heard downstairs?

By now, I have you trapped within my coils,
all hope of sleep long gone.
With stealth I insinuate a song into your head,
insistent like a throbbing pulse until
attention wanes and you start to drift away from me
on the seductive wings of sleep.
This I cannot allow, and oh, I know my prey, for finally
I sow the seed of story in that thrashing, turbulent mind
knowing well that will result in switching on the light and
compulsively jotting down my ideas.
I know you so well, so intimately, but
you don’t know me at all.