I stand asleep and staring at my feet

I stand asleep and staring at my feet:
Two soles so lost and may ne'er tarry--
Where dreams and premonition meet
And to where does a restless mind carry?
Talent wasted on frivolity
Dwindling hope like spider-webs so spin
Gambling future, a mere uncertainty.
The soul's a wretch who hates the mind, her kin.
Let the expectations of life us lose
Throw back our youth to such regressive tide
Sleep so ignores a blessing of its muse
These feet ignoble, indecisive hide.

Stand near, dear friend, and listen to my lies
I am true prophet of my own demise!