'the legion of everything does keep me awake'

[greensilkchai]

for fun. though when it's five a.m. and these things come a-knocking at my skull, it's less fun.

********

i canta vanta in the night,
i tremble when i weep.
the neel'ta'cales, with flipsome tails,
invade in ranks to where i sleep

and scream, 'be tall! be brave! be wall!
'see! your prey, she hacks
some gobbets slime, until the time
is gone to go to sleep and back!'

'yir fasa, lo, i shout you so!'
is all i repartee,
and flaunt my back, as if the lack
of sight will make them go away.

the colly wobbles up my wim,
the clock turns into time,
my sense turns into rhythm'd dross,
and all my whingings rhime.

oh, rulious eyes! they can't devise
the receipt to force the fall:
a cort o' kimble, a thimble o' gone,
(a shovel of something from off of my lawn)
a draegon of fagen, a flagon of pies.
yet all of my winning and all of my lies
play on in a muckle of nays over ayes,
and sleep comes to me not at all.