Sleep, sleep, go away,
Come back to drowse me when
it is not the middle of the day.
I cannot think in a straight line
because every time I close my eyes
they spend a little too much time going cross-eyed
until I am third eye blind and barely aware that I’m alive.
But, I also need you to stay when the night hums
like a congregation getting ready to pray.
The same low register refrain of grasshoppers grazing grates on the nervous system. The fear of hyperactivity among the insects, of the ultraviolence of locusts worms its way into my defenseless brain. Crippled under the weight of the cotton blankets, I entreat every fabled deity for the sweet succour of sleep. But, none reply.
Amd, my sleep-deprived brain is far too addled to absorb the excuses given for why even Zeus and Thor and Joseph Smith could not govern over the realm of sleep.
I only know what I dream and what I dream is too mystical to remember. Too meaningful to memorize. Too slippery tp conceptualize. Hazy meandering amid the disorganized mind, like sifting through lines amd counting the intersection.