Oneirophobia

The fear of dreams (a poem)

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It’s dark outside. The efforts of the day
weigh me into the softness of the bed.
But I lie awake fearing the lights
that will turn on in my head
and welcome the buzzing insects of the night,
which will crawl out of the folds of my brain
and play on the cruel screen of my sleep.

* * *

My eyes seem held open inside.
They rapidly roll from side to side,
perhaps to escape; but oblivious eyelids
are shut tight by the seduction of sleep.
So I helpless watch my fears and desires
making a mockery of my mannered me.

* * *

Finally, when they let me awake,
I’m left with cohesion-less cryptic clues,
to make of them whatever I want;
or push them back down,
none the wiser,
while they lie waiting
to come right out,
to bring me another restless dawn.