Taken Over

I've been having panic attacks the last few nights,
Just as I begin to settle into the idea of going to bed.
I'm not sure of the cause, though I have a few suspicions.

It's almost as if my brain simply wants to deny the idea of sleep.
The necessity.

So I go on up to the bedroom, and I take my medicine as it's prescribed, And I breathe deeply until I it feels like my whole body is going to fly apart
And at some point I fall asleep.
Then I begin to dream.

It's never pleasant.
Sometimes I make friends, good friends, friends who fill in a puzzle piece to my life
And when I wake up, I am hurt -
Deeply hurt -
By their absence.

Then there are the people who die.
In my dreams I call for them
In the morning I cry for them,
But quietly, because they're not gone and it's not a grief I am entitled to.

I can't explain why my brain is so intent on denying rest,
Why I panic at midnight
And only want to sleep in daylight

So when I take my  handful of pills for all the other ailments, I take one to sleep, too,
As if somehow this will fix everything
But I'm breaking more every day.