To Sleep, Perchance To Dream

To fall asleep with wistful dreams of the world,
Drowning in the artificial fog of the deepest slumber,
Blinded by ambitions which lay dormant in waking,
Full of all the wants that fall behind my needs,
Here I may be anything I wish, from the dew, to the sunshine.

I breathe life into this counterfeit domain,
If terror is to reach for me in the night,
It reaches out from within my own mind.

Even here I may be consumed by my own fears,
But I linger in slumber awaiting the passion,
This passion which eats at my soul, craving freedom.

Hindered in the waking world, here it reigns,
Finding beauty in even the darkest corners of my being,
Enveloping me in the silky, warm caress of madness.

From erotic to demonic, truly pure emotion,
Free from guilt and closed, but prying eyes,
Awakening my senses to the deepest of depths,
I pray that waking is slow in its approach.