Residue

[brynmawr1]

Nearing fulfillment
sleep abandons me
and the wish like a filament          
burns out.
In the black sun of consciousness
too real flesh evaporates               desiccates?
leaving behind a fragile husk.
No use to grasp it,
it will only crumble in my hand.

Hi TqB,
I like this very much.  Very relatable with nice grounded imagery.  Some half hearted suggestions above.
Take care,
bryn