between sleeping and waking - a poem i am working on

[cenisaley]

If slumber is supposed to provide

rest,

then why is it that

you, with the smug smile,

exhaust me in my respite?

Heavy down covers and blankets

cannot stifle my beating heart,

which still remembers the moments when it skipped

(because your heart saw mine,

snuck up on it, and tripped it).

Pillows with claims to Egyptian treasures

do not provide my mind with

escape

(it ponders Plato’s wonderings of sleep and waking,

hoping he was just a dreamer-

these subconscious hauntings

are nothing more than moments that will

disappear

with waking).

The sun taps my shoulder

to tell me it is time,

time to escape from escaping,

time to prove Plato wrong,

time to dust away the traces on my heart,

time to live well-

there will be no need for dreaming.