Sleepless nights
one after another
pile up next to my bed
like sheets of blank paper
full of nothing but empty space
I know exactly how many
revolutions the ceiling fan
makes in one minute
five minutes
one hour
Countless dreams I am missing
they are waiting for me
on the other side of consciousness
I can't get there from here
the path is blocked by tangles
of thoughts I can't quite grasp
yet can't let go of
I am trying to hide something
from myself or find something
I am not sure what it is
I can't see it through
sleep deprived red-rimmed eyes
Where are my angels?
my demons taunt me in the darkness
they whisper to me and I believe
their lies
with what armor do I protect myself?
with what weapons do I battle?
I am too weary to form a plan
My head rests on a pillow of
uncertainty , doubt
fear and longing
If I put out my hand and you are
not there is that a dream
or a nightmare? Are you real
and it is me that is imagined?
what tricks does my mind
play on me?
Glowing red numbers mock me
If I don't look them will the time
pass more quickly or is that just
another illusion in my delusion?
If I could pay for sleep the way
some pay for sex
what is the currency
what would the price be
to sleep, perchance to dream?
3 comments:
All good, this one, but my favorite line is, "I put my hand out, you are not there..."
Damn if I don't know this feeling all too well. Hope you get some good shut eye soon.
Oh wow, AWESOME POEM!!!! Great blog as well, very well done!
Thanks for the great comments.
Munkay, I guess what they say is true "no rest for the wicked" I am trying to be less wicked so sleep will no longer elude me, so far it seems to be working - got 7 whole hours last night!!
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