... on the darkened edge, no voices heard that I recall.
Slipping around the house in some slumber, part awake,
level one asleep... I shuffle wander.

sleep evades any hope of repair as another morning will
arrive new and fare.

a large mug of coffee fill, as I shake off the softened chill..
when will I find the proper pill? ("Coffee, ah, will be
the morning's demand reward".)

Sleep is a dream evading my time. It sits in circles
of the mind. circles I chase and wish to capture paste on
the wall.
Whereas I could unclinch the cliff preventing my
fall.  Never falling with surmount insistence, instead,
standing at attention of all life's varied assistance.

Tired, not as I exist in this zombie state, sleepy eyes
still closed sleep's gate. Exhausted, drained and
mentally lame. My body screams in pain and vain.

Rest is a flight. HE avoids my night.  t.v. channels,
meditation, infomercials, revelations. Try to wish
away the wake, and start to fall... into the hush...
slowly slush.... sleep a must.... BOOM! the bell of
conscious sends a scatter to sleepwalk nausea.

Pills prescribed for these ills, none for me do their will.
Wishing day to stumble an hour's nod. Dawning sun...
again in quicksand's mandate trod.