I Can't R.E.M.ember

[flamingsword]

My week has been a winding road of lies
That I tell to myself when I'm asleep
So my mind, fining nothing to do, tries
To occupy itself while minutes creep.
But lately my sweet dreams don't stand a chance
Against my nightmare spirit, foul and mean,
And having no recourse but somnolence,
Must witness things horrific and obscene.
I've used insomnia for fun in past-
Done sleep dep like a drug to keep me wired.
If my good dreams are where I find true rest
I'd sleep a century to wake still tired.
Exhausted now, I'll turn the corner soon,
And leave caring behind to pass on through.
My unconcern will swallow up the moon,
And any light to guide my way to you
Will fade like the world's last dying ember.
How does slumber work? I can't remember.