Killer of sleep

With my head in my hand, my eyelids close:
I went to bed late: now I’m fighting a doze.
There’s an hour to go, but it’s taking forever:
late work nights really aren’t that clever.

Another cup of coffee: the drink of the dead,
I feel like a zombie, who hasn’t been fed.

Brains for coffee, blood for speed,
flesh for coke, bone for weed.

These are my dreams, in my half sleep state.
Memories of the coffee and the drugs that I ate.
Flashbacks of days, holding sleep at the door,
leads me to slumber like they didn’t before.

Visions of zombies: I love the un-dead,
a flesh eating love, in a blood splattered shed.
Packin a shotgun, I’ll bag me a creep.
Deader than dead, I’m the killer of sleep.