“The Sleep”

And it has yet come again:

the overlooked drug, the loophole sin,

the consuming roar of the hellish hymn.

The Sleep is a music, the Sleep, a din.

 

How grim is the morning to I,

an acrimonious sunlight from which I hide.

Your own worst enemy with whom you’ve allied,

I want not the eyes, but the nothing open wide.

 

For each: a drug, one of choice.

Thus each: a victim, to a voice.

Loathe, indulge, rejoice.

Loathe, indulge, rejoice.

 

The Sleep consumes, the Sleep comforts,

the Sleep is blissful in its ignorant works.

The Sleep a maestro, the Sleep an artist,

the Sleep so calculated in its catharsis.

The Sleep a deity, a conniving chemist,

the Sleep more mighty than a roaring tempest.

The Sleep is surrogate, the Sleep a fraud,

the Sleep is malevolent, the Sleep is God.

 

The soft clawing of daylight at your soul’s window.

Accompanied by a tonal tattoo that seems to crescendo.

Why is this the moment where I wish I was no more?

Why is this the moment where I wonder what it’s all for?

Why is this the moment where I realize what I abhor?

Why is this the moment where I realize what I adore?   

 

How doth, such a feeling, one of nothing,

equate, such a feeling, to that of “happy”?

I nonetheless wish it to never end, this

blissful inability to comprehend.

May it forever control, apprehend.

The Sleep a lover, the Sleep, a friend.

 

For each: a drug, becomes their voice.

The Sleep, my fate, my binding choice.

Loathe, indulge, rejoice.

Loathe, indulge, rejoice.

 

Consciousness severed,

body a feather,

verily endeavor.

 

Sleep forever.

 

05/28/2016, Tony Blau Veldt