Sleep evasive, my retreat;
how can anything so sweet
be fugitive,
neglect my dreams.
Thoughts wound taut-
tight as a drum,
parade before me
one by one.
Staring at white ceiling,
losing all feeling,
save anger and despair –
who strut their stuff in
the still of the night.
Not a care, whatsoever,
for me and my plight.
Chasing the wind.
Chasing the fog.
Chasing a dream
like the tail of a dog.