Asleep on a bed
of broken glass;
no ease, no dreams,
no rest, no ass
– alone-
Cursed to sleep
in my solitary prison.
Better here dead,
than there and living,
at least there is the virtue of
somnambulism,
to sleep, yet body moving;
mind left un-arisen.
Essence left and no more presence,
dry out – pass out
my only defence.
Drop deeper so I cannot feel
the stabbing, piercing
of my skin.
Asleep and dreaming,
I am free
of birth and death,
love and sin.
HG – 2000-2005
