The fear of sleep.
It`s not so much the fear of sleep itself,
The fear of dreams.
It`s not so much the fear of dreams either,
There is no word for it…
Maybe it`s the fear,
That sleep leads to dreams,
And dreams lead to nightmares.
What about pragmatophobia,
The fear of reality?
Not so much the fear of reality itself,
But the unwillingness to accept reality.
There`s no word for it yet,
But maybe it`s a combination of all three,
Maybe it`s the fear of not knowing,
Of not knowing whether you`d rather be dreaming,
Or living in reality.
Not knowing whether you`d rather go back to reality,
Or play Russian roulette with your crazy,
Maybe it will have mercy this time.
Maybe it will let you wake up slowly,
Instead of gasping,
Gasping for reality,
Clutching your chest with trembling hands and wide eyes,
Eyes that have seen war,
Cold blooded murder,
All in a single night.
These hands have shot pistols,
And snapped necks.
This body has also been beaten and shot at.
This body has been broken,
Yet it never really happened.
All the horrors that those eyes have witnessed did not occur in reality,
But they still lurk in the twisted mind.
Those hands still tremble at the sight of a gun.
Could there ever be a word,
To describe that feeling?
That feeling of loss,
Grief for those who are just on the other side of the bedroom door,
But you don`t go through because you can`t quite look at them yet.
Could there ever be a word?
Do we need a word?
Will the word help diagnose the insanity?
Will it help put you to rest,
So maybe you won`t have to play anymore?