It’s hard to care
when sleep is intoxicating.
The pull toward oblivion
is a thick velvet
rope around my neck.
Bank rope strangling
me into complacency
and obedience.
I only want.
I want and I want and I
want. Chitinous clatter
blocks my face from the sun.
I wear a helmet
of shell and tar.
Keep me hidden.
You really captured that feeling of trying to resist sleep (especially “thick velvet/rope around my neck”). I also learned a new word from this poem; I had to look up “chitinous” in the dictionary, but it’s a great word to use!