Sleep

This is one of the many poems I've written about sleep: a very mysterious and overbearing monster, in my opinion.

With lead-weight eyes he walks around
Mumbling mostly nonsense and laughing at nothing.
He begs for sleep but desires it not
It is now that he is more alive than ever-
     Seeing everything as he really believes it.
     Thinking his truer darker thoughts.
Until he hits his place of rest.
Suddenly, the weight is gone,
His eyes spring open and he yearns for something - anything - to do.
As soon as he gets up, the lead is back.
And back to the rack he goes -
     Where - finished - he sleeps.