Often is sleep described as the way one

escapes life’s bitter resentment.  Those suns

grey, hidden behind vivid fantasies

that breathe imagination, yet still tease

the senses with the fickle, fleeting dreams

of worlds much, much larger than they seem.

But visions fade out all too quickly when

so soon confronted with my hardened sins,

the sins that define my existence on

this wretched Earth.  Don’t tell me that the dawn

is that far off.  In comes morning’s harsh light;

an eye’s blink; night’s rest not enough respite

to curb the angry demons that in my

poor heart do writhe and wreak havoc.  If I

could only know to make sleep eternal

and thus enjoy night’s pleasure nocturnal,

I would.  Alas, until then, I’ll awake,

eyes vigilant, alert?  –  a brilliant fake.