He Was Afraid To Sleep

He was afraid to sleep
It was the absence
Of senses
The unknown beyond eyelids
For what might crawl
Upon him, steal his breath
Or scurry into private folds

Afraid of holes in conscious life
While seconds dribble
From a slackened mouth
Who'd monitor his living?
Make it mean something.

And vain, as though
The world was the poorer
When he did not see it.
Did it even exist
When, in fermenting dreams,
He closed his eyes?

But mostly afraid
He lay in buzzing, sore fatigue,
Anxious for an unseen cataclysm
Ignorance of tragedy
Or just his final minute
Which lack of sleep
Brought ever closer.