Dark half moons define your days,

caffeine and desperation; you wait for the crash.

Daylight fades to dark.

Facebook's dead.

It is time (a hair pulling good time) to sleep.

Eyes sandpaper dry,

the lids just don't quite seem to fit these days.

Muscles ( the burdensome children that cling to clothing and hang off your limbs, insistant upon going home NOW, "are we there yet?") sag and ache,

demanding reprieve.

You are acutely aware of your heartbeat now,

as it is a pulse

pulse

pulse

pulse

pulse of pain

behind your eyes.

Throbbing. (pulse pulse pulse pulse)

It reminds you only that you are still awake.

Not alive.

Toss.
And turn.


And turn.




and turn.


Restless doesn't even begin to describe it.

You carefully review every action, every comment.

Mentally skim every topic.

Weather.










Schedule.

Homework.


conversations.



Social cues. Rumors. Family. church.

Sleep. sleep. sleep. sleepsleepsleepsleepSLEEP SLEEP SLEEPSLEEPSLEEP Angry muscles revolt!

and contract, jolting you from a hopeful hypnogogic state.

Discouraged, you comply.

Turn on the light.

Pick up a book.

Browse your playlist.

Covers on.

Covers off.

Two pillows.

No pillows.

Right side, left, remake the bed check the clock

Four hours until you have to "wake up"

Ha.

As if you'd ever slept.

You scroll through your thoughts.

second thoughts (thoughts thoughts)

and third. (thoughts thoughts thoughts)

and fourth (thoughts thoughts thoughts thoughts)

and

and

and

Existential Crisis.

and then and then AND THEN AND THEN

AND

One new message. (roll over, open)

Stupid conversation.

The trivial things may soothe you.






No reply.





The sane are sleeping.

WHERE ARE YOU?

There goes the alarm clock.




You're WAY ahead of it.

Last night's half moon dances under your eyes.


Stretch



and dress



and y a w n to life.

All you've got to go on

is caffiene




and desperation

until















Bed time