Waiting

I lie,
Waiting,
Recumbent upon the bed of the downy chair,
Adrift in the waking dreams of almost-maybe,
Of perhaps broiled with rather-not,
Of if-only salted lightly with I-wish-it-were,
A sleep timed to the clockwork heartbeats,
Of the forever-eye mounted upon the whitest wall,
An immaculate white,
As opposed to slighlty-less-thans of the doors,
Both the inevitable and the threshold,
Two exits, though one only to lead deeper,
Into the lion's lair,
Into the hall of prison cells,
Where each second plunges one ever deeper into the rather-not,
Perhaps-if-only-I-wish-it-were vanishing into the distance,
With no going back.

And then I am roughly ejected from my nightmare,
Black expunged by overpowering white,
Only to notice
I had never left.





Liberal hyphens! Dark revelations! Inescapable nightmares!

Note: I will use five lines of space for future post-poem commentary as well, for this way the commentary is better distinguished (especially at a glance) from the poem itself. Additionally, this creates some space for thought, something every poem should provide.