Harrowed
My eyes grow heavy and my sight is blurred;
I fight for wakefulness but steadily cede ground.
I am being drawn down,
seduced into the abyssal realm of sleep.
Wandering these moonlit halls
I stumble upon oddities unending,
my slumbering mind rife with mysteries,
falsehoods and problems; no solutions in sight.
Scene after scene plays out across my field of view,
colors and sights impossible and astounding.
They obstruct my battle for consciousness,
my struggle to escape this nightmare landscape.
On the off chance I win and make my exit,
the awaiting reality grants no reprieve,
no relief from the hell
that stalks my every motion and thought.
When even the eclipsing state of sleep
provides no rest, no sanctuary,
and awareness drains you of life;
what is left?
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