Wide open eyes
Poor sedatives make
Smearing the guise
Smudging the fake
How long must
I sit and
Wait out trust
The slow sand
Softly trickling down
Now they close
Slips the crown
But I know
It won't be
For more than
This is me
The calm slam
Shut drawing mind
Ever closer in
Til darkness finds
And sleep wins.
A poem sabotaged by sleep.