If a poet fills his wounds with poetry, will his body become a masterpiece?

I get sleep,
A real one.
But I’m scared to accept it,
Cause I don’t know if I can.
If I deserve it,
While all I do is,
Dilly dallying,
While nothing’s happening.
When I have everything to be happening.

I plan to sleep early today
Not sure if I'll be okay.
Haunted by the things I ought to do,
Eyes need rest with the things I do.
But I have miles to go before I sleep,
Lots of commitments that I have to keep.
To myself and my future self,
So we both can be at the same pace.

My whole world revolves around non-genuine but realistic things.

We fell in love by chance,
We stay in love by choice.

between sunrise
and sunsets

confined bone
and flesh

nests an ocean
that cannot sleep

each drop a
breath escaped

where it pours
in the sorrow

of everything
in mourning

for eyes that
do not speak