11=7

My head is in a frenzy and I lie
crippled, deathly frightened in my bed
 My heart is pounding like some bassy drum
And sending shockwaves pulsing through my veins.
My eyes are closed, I’ve slept for quite an hour
In much that same sad anguish you once felt
 But that incessant, flat, and cursed tone
 Of my phone buzzing dully ‘top some book
 Is horrid! And I shake and turn away
to face my three-fold shadow on the wall
and try collecting my grief-stricken thoughts
but then again, that haunted buzzing call!
     A thousand hairy bugs,
    With their horrid little legs,
    Do stalk about beneath skin
    As they hurry in a craze.
Oh! Melancholy! Is it you, who warps my ticking mind?
 To think of moments past that weren’t so proud
I now expect that same spite out of you
 But Wherefore?
     My brain is in a fever
     I fear I cannot rest
     And the red lights of the clock
     In silent mocking form
Shall be my only friend throughout the night.