worlds Poem by e.e. wilholt

Another two-dimension day
Of white walls and linoleum halls
Fades into dusky nothing.
Boredom bears a kicking, screaming devil child,
Tormenting you to take those passion vows
To wed a world of night lights
And loud, cloudy drunks,
Dream people who laugh and stagger ‘round you.
And you move with them, with the
Off-key songs and discordant voices
That talk in waves of high and low,
Loud and soft around you.

When you have cast away
Your wakefulness you fall into
A nightmare-haunted bed, with restless visitors
Who toss you and turn you
For hours that seem like days.
And then your sagging, red-shot eyes
Open blankly to day and a dusty light
That filters in and
Greys the colors of your room.
And drifting ghosts of the dream night’s clouds
Float wisp by wisp away,
Leaving you lost and void of emotion,
Lying in a glass-walled vacuum.

You feel no part of the smoky-noise world
Of only several hours past,
Or the one who danced and laughed, and
Short-lived played in it.
And you now lie quiet, only one awake
In a world still asleep, but for small brown sparrows
And grey and charcoal juncoes
Throating early morning music
Soft outside the shaded windows.
And the rhythmic pillow breathings
Of your family and the neighborhood
Draw you once again to a sleepy dimension
Where Time has lost its meaning.

You remember last night
And a groan breaks from your stomach.
You turn away in restless, rustling sheets,
Falling back asleep to dreams again.