The long exasperated gasp from air,
Followed by the hyperventilating,
The moisture from your forehead and on the side of your eye a singular tear,
As you burrow further into the sheets the flood from your eyes are just beginning,
The lines between reality and fiction are blurred before the first light,
The nightmares may not be real,
But the tears, sweat, fear all cloud your sight,
And the fear is the truest existence you feel.
So in the end you wipe your eyes,
And whatever is coming from your nose,
Just to lay back waiting for sunrise,
Remembering why you no longer wish for dreams.