It is an invidious mutation of insomnia - not
that I can’t sleep - or don’t, but the fear’s in
awe of what happens if you’re not ‘aware’ -
awake in the sense I’m at least not asleep -
concerned I’m not ready to be ‘elsewhere’
cease, nothing can alter its passing into an
another place - not even me when I awake
easier to depart from - was always there; if
you awoke, supposedly in consciousness,
was always the way it seemed; now I’m lost
imagining where it’ll go; There’ll have to be
that and I’ll be really pleased - if somewhat
bereaved - but I can live with that, easily…
© 24 September 2014, I. D. Carswell
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