The Black Sea : Lines at 4 a.m.

’tis a bitter sea
of sleeplessness
that casts upon
imagined shores
and moves the dunes
about my reasoning
in ebbs and flows
these darkened waves
hide behemoths
whether real or no
they seek to drown me.

Ghosts

these ghosts have not known life
for dead they are
and dead they were
before my rest awakened them
in evening’s cloak
covered and cared
in that blackness
that hides a million lights
they come to haunt
they see through skin and bone
to the very sinew of fear
spectres of doubt
I beg of you
leave me to my dubiety
and return to sleeping shadows.