Insomniac

I cannot sleep, dare not, for the burdens of another day torment my dreams. As i drift upon another wave of clouded mindness, ebbing, slowly upon my bed frame; such solid comfort, comes a torent of wild believings. Such fantasies locked only within the subconscious mind, a sleeping mind, yet no sleep comes. Such play writes of the soul do not unfold beyond the mind's eye tonight. Such a mind may be sparked, wired, Alive with life itself, outside life. Outside such comfort of my pillowed haven, where a gentle breeze becomes a scurry of all things moveable between these walls. Where shadows reveal themseleves to an untrained eye; a tired eye. So tread not upon the floorboards which stir such rare slumber, nor evoke my conscience with such equivocal wonderings, but return once more unto the realms of make-believe, from whence you came.