Dead cigarettes in the ash tray.

The right side of my face stares out the window from the end of a pillow. The leafless stems of the tree sit still, but I stare at them until they start moving, and I don't blink until they have turned into the blackened hands with long rotted fingernails of the demon that rests on what used to be a branch. Lyrics to a song I am working on come into my mind, they are profoundly poetic and will make a fine addition to the sweet melody I have created, but I forget them instantly as I raise up to find the switch on the lamp. I lay there staring at the paper, shaking my head trying to knock the words back into place.
I can't stare into the dark for to long, if I do the invisible children that live here might appear, and I will never sleep again. My best bet is to light a cigarette and ponder on how many peoples lives I have affected over the years, It's what keeps me up at night anyway... The ashes singe my chest as I blow them onto the dark yellow sheets. I try and come up with things to entertain the mind, but all I can come up with is negative rants about nothing important. So again I sit, staring into the jagged fingernails of the demon outside my window, hoping he doesn't start tapping on the screen. the dead leaves on the ground rustle in the wind, making me believe someone is lurking in the back yard, I wonder if I locked the door. If I didn't it would be too late anyway, the man is already inside the house, waiting around a corner for me to come see if everything is ok in the house. The dark side of my brain thinks he would be doing me a favor by grabbing my head and slicing my throat, but the light inside me tells me to stay upstairs where it is safe. The invisible children need to play now, so I must pretend to sleep.