Just stop.

When my mind is racing.

Just stop.

When all I want to do is sleep.

Just stop.

When thoughts fly by like trees aside the highway.

Just stop.

When I can’t decide if I’m contented or sorrowful,
excited or stressed.
I’ve no idea where I’ll come to rest.
My last dream was violence.
Struggling against an unknown opponent.
I awoke with heart pounding,
Breathing labored,
Body covered in sweat,
As if the throes of our battle caused some tear in the dream,
Allowing him to come down upon me in reality.
But through some manner of grace I awoke,
And severed the bond,
Before he dragged me back into that eternity.

I’ve begun to hate sleep.
As the sun crosses the sky in its chariot,
I toss and turn in my bed,
Wasting precious lifetime in a fruitless search for rest.
What should be a ritual of rejuvenation,
Becomes an exercise in futility.
Eventually I will sleep.
Only so much can be heaped upon,
Before fatigue collects its bounty.
So I lay down,
And close my eyes again.