Old writings…

I was doing some reorganizing on my computer and stumbled upon this old poenm I wrote (sometime my freshman year of college I think...)

Fear of Sleep

Why in the early morning hours,
Does my mind fill of dialogue and flowers?

So often of pinto seeds and pumpkin beans,
Of both real and fantastic scenes;

Yet, it's in this time of recollection,
That me sleepless spirit finds connection.

Because in the brightness of day
My mind quarrels to keep at bay:

What do I do? Who do I become?
This needles worry is only known by some.

When in the night I can hide in my dreams.
I can be myself, and how shall I word it?

"Nighttimes's the only time in a dreamer's day."