Dave Bonta's "Sleepwalker" is a short, unsettling picture of what sleep feels like to someone who can't rest in it. The speaker doesn't see sleep as comfort. It is "a bad journey," and the place it leads to is "the country of a corpse," a landscape that belongs to the dead rather than the sleeping. That comparison makes sleep feel less like rest and more like a small rehearsal for dying.
The second stanza loosens the logic further. Night and day, which should be opposites, "quarrel and point / and turn in at one gate." They argue like two people who still end up going home together. The image suggests that the speaker's sense of time has blurred, which fits the title: a sleepwalker is neither fully asleep nor awake. The mood is eerie, tired, and a little dreamlike. The speaker sounds uneasy rather than panicked, as if this confusion has become familiar.