#11

Dreamless

My hands are shaking.
My eyes are half shut.
Delirium flows through my veins
and sloshes around in my head.

Something is holding me here
in this state of consciousness.
I have knelt at the feet of my
sleepless specter.

I pleaded for some relief.
For she is the one who-
prohibits me to sleep.

She's dressed in white.
Her form is squared.
Every night her head is there beside mine.

And she whispers...
"You mustn't sleep dear one.
There's far too much you have left undone."

So, when I wrote this poem I had gotten the idea from Parks blog page. The idea is that my bed is talking to me. However, I did tend to want it to seem like the subconscious as well. I would really appreciate any feedback given now that I am able to discuss what I was going for. Also, any suggestions for a better title. It was Wishes for Dreams which was horrible, but I really don't like this new one either. I don't know I'm running out of ideas. Thanks!