Attempting to toss
into coordinates of comfort,
I fail to find a prime position
to support my heavy heart,
and to contain my racing mind.
A blanket–
always too stiff–
clings uncomfortably
to my spent body,
which I reluctantly trust
to wake up once more again.
A pillow–
always too flat–
smothers the thickening air
as my lungs try to
swallow reality once more.
I plea to the pause
fragmenting awareness
to rise and resume,
as the void encroaches
and consciousness escapes me.
-
Author:
FallingAwake2 (
Offline) - Published: February 26th, 2025 08:12
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
Offline)
Comments3
A great approach with vivid images of the process of rest or sleep and some unlikely pairing of these images to such natural processes. Very nicely done
What a well written and accurately descriptive poem. Thanks for sharing with us.
A well expressed and written write
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