I don't dream.

There may have been a time
where my brain tossed
images and motion
to my undeveloped brain.












A sunny day translated
into hazy yellow and blue
that carries me until
the morning light returns.












But to dream, one must sleep,
and my muscles spasm
at the thought of
dropping my eyelids.












A drawbridge is no good
if at a moment of weakness
the guard lets it down-
letting darkness in.












So I sit primed, alert,
awaiting a war cry between
the hum of your breaths-
the occasional snore.












I don't fall asleep.