renee-babin

The creak of my bones,

rubbing in disagreement to my 

stretching, hoping for relief while

thoughts of murky water mold and

pull apart like  a bowl of warm soup

Relief of a multitude of sorts, my

mind and body

bickering as an old married couple would, 

stuck together to the very end

and yet disagreeing on 

how much I should sleep

Words begin to have no meaning, 

only becoming a soft mumbling of

utter nonsense that should be perfectly clear

like that pond of murky water

It drowns me in hopeless longing

for clarity, a decent night's rest

and relief.