Sleeping In Time - Poem by Jan Hauck
I spend most of my days sleeping
Like a cat, my head on or under
The pillow, wake up sometimes
Not sure about the day, the year,
Then it returns like a towering ghost,
A cloak of bills, demands and sorrows.
When shall I live, everywhen or where?
The glory of the past, the future fears
And mustering the courage to hide in dreams
That make perfect sense while they last,
Wishes, hopes of leaving, misplaced in time,
Holding my breath in my sleep without success.
The flavours of time, people and places
I cannot go, meet, away from distorted reality
Yet words, dreams, books filled with the same,
Hibernation and creation, escape,
Sleep like a small death, a journey
Into contentment of madness.
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