Hypersomnia
Drowsiness flows through my veins like honey
"To be awake is unnatural," my brain seems to say
"It’s not as though there’s much to do out here anyway"
‘Out here’ referring to the world outside the contained universe of the mind, that is to say
Why try so hard to be here?
Why fight an uphill battle?
There’s experiences to be had and people to be with
I protest I grumble I prattle
Yet still the air is heavy and warm
Still I feel the fishhook of unconsciousness yanking at my brain
I scramble for a foothold in the physical
But slip in the greyness and the rain
And after I’ve “gone home” so to speak
To my homeworld of Planet Dream
I think "surely 12 hours was all I needed"
But my vociferous brain, “MORE” does it scream
It leaves me with the question
How anyone accomplishes anything
When so strongly tempted by the greatest seductress mankind has known
His and her own overworked thought machine
Likewise how could I amount to anything
When the simplest task of forcing my eyelids to separate
Proves more difficult than distancing starcrossed lovers
Such as Romeo and Juliet? (Without the fatal fate)
Caffeine I do consume
Allow my eyes to drink blue light like water on a hot day
And yet still consciousness eludes me
And leaves me sighing “Anyhow, it’s not as though I needed to do that TODAY”
Why does sleep seem a more potent drug to me than others?
Why do I favor sleep’s embrace over that of my own mother’s?
Regardless of my frustrations, exhaustion crushes and smothers
Goodnight sweet prince. The waking world? Don’t bother.
