Sleep has left the building.
She has to be coerced with a pill.
She has no claims to fantasy.
She requires no story.

Give her a story
And she will stay away pursuing it.
She’s best left storyless
And thus, barren.
A pill is her fee.
She comes – carelessly –
And then has a brood of dreams.

Dreams I would rather not have;
Because they remind me of loss
And pain –
And people who won’t love me again.

Sleep smiles. I forced her with a pill.
So I am punished.
Her brood wakes me up
And the moment, I open my eyes,
She is once again set free.