At night I have the same dream that eases my mind,
Where my sweating arms float above and my eyes don't look at what's behind.
My neck get moist and my mouth forms clear bubbles,
And, for once, I am able to look at the sky and not feel in trouble.
My hair sinks down and with it goes my head,
And although my vision blurs I do not feel a dread.
My nose gets an overwhelming smell of salt and a sense of becoming nauseous,
But the folds of my clothes ensures me that there's no need to be cautious.
My feet slowly swing back and forth and warmness engulfs me,
As my ears succumbs to the intoxication of where my final resting shall be.
When I am able to rest my eyes and feel the clearing of my soul, however,
My eyes wake up with the sun that warms me shall it never.
A poem about a depressed person that feels warmth only when they dissolve into their slumber. I started it last Friday and finished the last four lines today.