No sleep, three days.
Head goes on the pillow but all
I can think about is not thinking
and how a quiet
room can be so loud.
Not that long, stop being so frail.
Do you know some people
haven’t slept in years
on account of their bed being an alley?
When are you going to figure out how to get around?
[wo]Man up. [editor’s note: keep it contemporary]
Maybe the nicotine, or caffeine, or amphetamines.
Maybe the attack helicopters or the
order to stay put (or else ((?)) or
the hole that pasta
can’t fill.
Maybe the dwindling dollars, or never-ending
newsfeed.
Maybe the capitalists, actually. This is how
it’s designed ain’t it?
Time is money and sleep is time so
Old shows on TV (when did
they get so cheap?)
Pixels shoot synthetic comfort
into desperate eyeballs.
Sex and the City doesn’t
knock me out like it used to.
How does Carrie do it?
6:48, dream-world. Sun comes up,
nice to see you again but
why am I outside with you
pulling out blades of grass
sitting next to the alley cat?
Well it’s sort of nice to look at the weeds
and unfinished projects,
just the three of us.
Maybe this isn’t so bad.
Maybe I am different and sleep is
just not for me.
Maybe…lots of maybes. Too many maybes.
Sorry but,
when do I get to say “it is, certainly” ?
Shooting for next Tuesday.