One would think with reality being a nightmare I would embrace sleep.
But that would be an unfounded leap,
I’m bound to the land of the living as a new bird to its nest.
Or land of the existing for I can’t seem to take off this vest,
I can’t seem to spread my wings,
I can’t seem to beat my chest,
I can’t feel these amazing things,
I can’t seem to forget the past,
Which night will be my last?
© Akeem Rowe Kingsinister, 2016