Sleep, Please

It’s both red and crimson Same you say? But different. It looks smaller than anything else you’ve prescribed but in the end it’s all just another cocktail - a cocktail of substances trying to keep me alive or sane or both. Sane Lack of sleep is woeful as a life of permanent jet lag confuses the mind like a heavy London smog before they cleaned up their act or for those unable to recall Singapore enveloped in Indonesia’s haste to burn all before them satisfying the greed that the essence of palm may grease the hands of those whom welfare has forgotten. Sane? I fear not. 250: get off the street! Red welts and leg pains increase as clots and other pulmonary concerns caused by pollutents send me deep into the intensive care of expensive foreign concerns This one is red and crimson. Same you say, but different trying to keep me sane. Compounded, you assure Confounded, I demure. Will it give me rest or merely knock me out sending me to restless slumber full of dungeons and dragons and sick puppies all needing me to help? Two-toned red. Trust me, I’m your doctor. Trust me, I have to take the infernal thing. Sleep, o sleep, why hast thou abandoned me? Shades of red and land of Nod beckons... I hope