The fog of sleep
envelops me,
and tries to take
me away.

It slows the
heart,
and closes the
eyes
and releases the
thinking brain.

Unless, of course
you wake before
prescribed.
Then your sleep
becomes nothing more
than a disease that passes
time.

It's in the deep
dark places
that you
will find me.

Where there is no
love,
where there is no
hate,
where there just
is.

Nobody left of me.
Nobody right.
Just vast nothingness,
like a midnight
playing field
without the stadium,
without the lights.

It's not hard
to imagine
a heart of ICE.
Or a mind gone
numb.

Where there is
nothing,
nowhere,
No one.

I hope that when
Judgement comes
(If you believe in such
a thing).
That the one who judges,
looks at me,
with a scowl and says
Rejected-

What am I to do
when the dog
has no
day?

Where am I to go
when the hills
are too far
away?

Who shall I seek
when good has gone,
and so has
evil?

I'm just really no good
at this game
called
people.

It's 3AM
and I'm up again
listening to the
rushing breeze.

My head hurts
and my stomach
gargles,
And the wind
continues to
sing.

It's lonely here,
at 3am:
No creaking floor
or shutting door
or faucet with a
handle turned.

Just me here,
hungry-
listening to the
breeze.