To the Dream King

Oh Sandman, do you hate me?
do you wish to send these terrors?
Sometimes you are so sweet,
like a cloud filled with honey,
and others, oh Dream King,
what did I do to deserve this?

I didn't ask to predict the future,
or go into the depths of my
subconscious mind or into
my deepest darkest fears.
So why do you send them
to me, only to torture?

You go in waves, like the ocean.
It doesn't matter where I am,
or how I've fallen asleep.
Rather, I think you enjoy
the torture and the pain,
the power to send good
or bad, to wake me up
in shakes, tears, drawing
breathes and trying to get oxygen.

I didn't want this. I didn't ask
to dream in color. I didn't ask
to remember them when I wake.
Sir Dream King, please I plead
give me a rest, let my eyes lay dark.

I'm tired of waking up at 3 a.m.,
wet in the sweats, steaming hot,
tossing, turning, gasping for air.
Send me the rainbows again,
the ponies, the pot of gold.

Just let my eyes sit dark,
just for awhile.