The Coma of the World

The Coma of The World

by Happy Hiram

Here I cling
Perilously on the edge
Buried in concrete
Scratching at the wall

But I fall asleep and dream of the world
I have a house with mulch-trimmed lawns
The sun shines on the neighbors
And at night there is a comfy bed.

When I wake
I am again on the ledge
The world, a hostile place.
Bats swoop down at me
And I shoo them off
Without losing my balance.

Better the dream of a real life
Solid locks on hardwood doors
Knowing this isn't real, but
Feeling how solid it all is.

Back to the trap
Surviving on fleas
Carrying my seeds
To faraway climes
Where the concrete
Doesn't rule.

Ah the peace of day life
Knowing the dream is gone for a while.
Even though I wake up --

-- in a panic, almost falling
While I drifted in the world
Here I am again
Balancing on the cusp.
Longing for the dangerous safety of sleep.

Once, long ago, I fell from this height,
To the desperate infinity below
But I never hit the ground
I vanished into the coma or reality

Am I a weed clinging to a skyscraper?
Or a man having a terrible dream?
I long for the coma of peace and contentment,
Not the anxiety of truth.