Sleep is a wormhole
Where I go through
When I’m too scared to face the longest hours of the night
Thinking of things I’d better off not.

Sleep is an escape
And elusive escape
That pops up when your run from it
And hides when your crave for it.

Sleep is an illusion
To hallucinate
To forget the ache
Even for the briefest time
While the world isn’t awake.

Sleep, like other things, is what you write about
When you have none
And you hear the birds outside
Calling for the sun.


2 thoughts on “Sleep

  1. Bim says:

    So good. It so close to how I feel about sleep and that’s the gift you have. The poems you do, they get in side and make you feel

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