To Sleep: A Poem

 

It’s the hour after midnight

And the rain tumbles down-

Just sounds in absence of light

Making sharp taps on the ground.

 

Somewhere in my achy knee

There’s a crick, an ugly bend.

That winces and protest painfully

that it’s just half alive, almost dead.

 

The only light that’s on is the dim

whitish-blue of the artificial screen.

I watch it with aching limbs

And straining eyes that need to see.

 

It’s the hour after midnight

And I should long be asleep

For the hours of the night

Have passed furiously, I grieve.

 

And yet, I can’t part my blood-shot

eyes rimmed red with exhaustation

from the flicker-dazzle lights that rot

my brain away with gleeful ministration,

 

I should close my eyes, let them rest.

Tip my neck back, stretch my knee.

Get out of this hellish crisscross nest,

soft blankets and screens smothering me.

 

…I know I should….So why haven’t I?

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