Sleep

A mirage of happiness or terror,

we take our chances,

A world free or full of error,

As if on a drug my vision dances,

Smudging and slurring like looking through old professor’s glasses,

A new world emerging,

The old passes,

The new now pictured so vividly in my head,

I try not to lose myself in this perceived reality,

Which keeps me physically pinned to my bed,

Its melancholy mess seducing what once resembled a personality,

For wary seems to be its replacement,

Excitement and joy reduced to distant memories,

Stowed away in the basement,

Worry and stress no longer exist,

With no consciousness left to dwindle on resent,

When fatigue takes over I do not resist,

Under a glowing crescent,

Peace at last,

A sighs and smile of content grace my lips,

The present becoming the past