Come with me

Sleep like a blanket

falls upon me

sweet drug induced I feel no pain

its soft warm touch all around me

drifting in and out of consciousness

or I believe I am


Suppose sleep is wasteful

as a child thinks

I must concur my honourable lord

there are so many more important things

I could be doing with my time

alas you drag me here

kicking and screaming

I don’t want it yet..


Succumb! succumb! before my only master

a phantom of the dark

crouched in the shadows out of sight

it’s only at the last fall of my eyelids

you shall pounce

and I never catch your sleek invasion


Only you are aware of my chamber of secrets

how you must cringe at my foul fantasies

but remain ever faithful

for your cloak of concealment is a black tent

invisible to the wakened world


Again a brand new day

such monstrous thoughts and schemes are perverse now

imagine that I performed them all in broad daylight

some ugly massacre of the senses

should I be cast away or locked deep in a dungeon

it matters little

for tonight we adorn the veil once more







Filed under daily, Dreams, Health, Philosophy, Poetry

6 responses to “Come with me

  1. Very tantalizing you make sleep seem. When is it that we convince ourselves we must be ever-wakeful and cheat ourselves of much needed sleep? In my later years I return to needing more of it once again. very good poem, Tigercity!

    • thank you, alas however many good intentions I presume to have, I usually prolong wakefulness to the extremes and it takes discipline to ‘hit the sack’!

  2. What dastardly ‘foul fantasies’ pass between your neural synapses whilst you sleep – I wonder? What grains does the sandman sprinkle in your eyes? But I wonder no further. The veil hides all and I dare not presume to peep beneath. Mind you, I do feel the pull of sleep stronger these days and harder to resist. A winter’s hiberation sounds bliss.

    • no-one can deny that while engaging in the weird and wonderful world of sleep, they encounter demons and angels alike, it is indeed a murky world with few rules observing rationality, time, reasonableness or even decency.. winter is a while off yet.. !

  3. Insomnia is the enemy. It’s funny the things you write when you haven’t been sleeping. Sometimes the seem brilliant until you read them later and you can’t remember why. I’ve blown my own mind only to wonder why there are no traces of the explosives when I pick up the pieces. If I could only bottle that stuff. But who’d want to drink it?

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