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.
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