Do Not Let Me Sleep Until I Awaken On My Own

Do not let me sleep
until I awaken
on my own.

When I arise
naturally,
during the trip back
from unconsciousness,
I instinctively
reassemble dreams,
reconfiguring,
recontextualizing,
reinterpreting
and I usually detest
what I find:

walking down
squishy darkened halls
over the corpses of
mutilated snakes,
over blood and muscle
and sinew
and I cannot
see the end,

or embraced by
faceless women
whose madness manifests
only out of the corner
of my eye
as they take me
to their bounteous bosoms
and I nuzzle unreservedly
until I hear
the scrape of their
silver razor teeth,

and then I am lost
in a miasma,
going down on
anonymous placeholders
who I thought
only existed
on the periphery
of my consciousness

and I’m trapped
in this miserable cell,
but finally I am saved
not by the bell,
by the beep,
of an electronic
screech screech screech
from the $7 alarm clock.

Do not let me sleep
until I awaken
on my own.

I’d rather be
groggy and sleep-deprived
than rested
and disturbed.

[Posted for #OpenLinkNight at dversepoets.com -come along and dream a little dream with me.]