Notes From A Famine

Lost in sleep, charting
streams consciousness forgot, she
speaks in poetry.

She raises sleepshot
eyes to find a guide – listens
to the sound of skies.

This is where the seeds
of dreams are sown – where muses
grow and feed on stars,

night air arias.
Sleep is hunger, says the Moon,
hung high and rung white.

* * *

Insomnia, again. Gah.
So tired and depressed right now. It was only to be expected, but still. I've had enough. :/

.

First time writing haikus. How did I do?