An addiction to sleeping…? Why not a disease,,,
To be unconscious one third the time I am here
Should be called my existence? It fits like a glove.
In my dreams, like a free bird, I zoom out above
Where I can’t when I’m wide awake in constant fear
As my life quickly wastes away and no one sees.
It’s at worst therapeutic. The cycle of sleep
Has a three quarter rhythm like some poetry.
It’s the nearest escape hatch without absolute
Departure from the physical. Rather acute
Is my life situation. Where I need to be
Is far off from where I am, so my soul does weep.
Meditation and sleeping are somewhat the same.
They both bring much relief from the troubles at hand.
As each is made available, there is my chance
To remember that I am not my circumstance.
Terminal, though it seems, may it help me expand
Far beyond a solution to mitigate shame.
I rely now on guidance. I’m on cruise control.
Things I do throughout my day I don’t think about.
Mindfully automatic with each daily task
With no judgment from me, I do most humbly ask
That I live through my hell with no measure of doubt
That redemption is possible for my damned soul.
Healthy sleep is wellbeing of body and mind.
I have more energy, and my mood can remain
At a workable level. If I were ok –
Like no one on this earth – I’d have nothing to say.
I exist to express things, and it keeps me sane
And conscious of the moments when I’ve been unkind.