Sleep has left me forlorn it seems, I dare to dream,
but alas the moon is mocking me.
My sheep have all emigrated,
I'm left with a vast field
where all my thoughts
have congregated.
I try to navigate the bustling throng,
but they are dragging me down.
Crowding me. Stamping over me,
pushing me along.
Singing loud songs.
My body is sore, aching to fall,
bit by bit it starts to close off.
Bits are dozing
while my brain just sits and scoffs.
Sleep?
It’s for the weak and feeble
it protests.
Well, I'm weak and feeble,
now let me fucking rest.
I've crawled through rabbit holes in my head,
dug up corpses, spoken to the dead.
Carcasses reanimated and given a home.
Across time and space, I've roamed
trying to find where I dropped my sleep,
but it seems I've lost the thread.
I want to weep. it eludes me still.
I've got chills, window open,
closed, covers on/off
Nothing I do seems
to make the shades drop.
Rested? Not in the slightest
It's like a motorway.
Congested, with too many thoughts blinding.
Blue lights flashing,
but my mind sits resisting arrest.
I hear the songbirds sing.
sleep is not coming.
Suddenly everything
Starts to
slow
down
and
the
world
swirls around.
A burst of colour.
The party is in full swing.
I just want to rest is that such a bad thing.
My alarm starts to ring.
The hammer blow sends it
to its clockwork grave.
*Disclaimer no clocks were harmed
during the events portrayed*
Thanks for reading
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