The poet examines her work
leafs through the crumpled papers
watching handwriting change
from entry to entry
sometimes within poems
as if emotion dictates scrawl-
lighthanded, looping, or harsh and flat

She stops on a few
drawn in by memory
or lines like dreams
where she imagined sleepless nights
or the end of a life
anything her mind could imagine
fleshed out with the fluidity of a stream

The words had always been in
her brain. It is impossible to know
if they would have disappeared
with nowhere to go
if she hadn’t guided her pen to paper
everyday, writing about whatever
or whomever. Like the sketch artist

she has gotten better everyday
the words appearing quicker and quicker.
This might be due to English class
it’s hard to say
regardless she has grown-
like a tree budding in Spring
learning everything has a purpose


The poet is not just a poet
she catches snippets from novels-
the dialogue or introduction or
internal stream of consciousness
clanking around her brain
She once wrote a fairytale
about a boy who spoke to trees

All of them are precious-
they are pieces of her soul
spread out on lined paper
calling out for a life that imagines,
wonders, feels free,
does not stand still-
floats on the breeze like the eagle

She has learned a thing or two
from Sylvia Plath:
the good stuff
the quality of dissonant language
the stanza-length-decision
Before she would write whatever
sounded nice- she might still

The poet, satisfied, closes the journal
imagining that one day
her poems would reach into the
minds of the world- gently
drawing out dreams-
inspiring words like she has been inspired
And she closes her eyes with an exhale

In the brash brassy light you stand,
shaky, on two feet
like a lethargic elephant

swaying---always swaying
and the light keeps blazing
and your head keeps spinning

You are beyond the point of exhaustion
there is nothing left
no trace of the self that was

If it is time to sleep
Sleep will not come
She is mad at you

you have refused her
for too long- an accident,
really- but normally

she welcomes you back
normally she is happy to
see you, and you float into her arms

not this time

so you keep swaying under that light
until crawling into bed
and the waiting begins

-------------------------------------

While the world sleeps
you turn and turn
worn from the hours
of thinking about anything
but sleep
the comforter brings no comfort
the pillow does not ease the strain
of your neck, the weight of
your head or
of that racing mind

the worst part about being awake
in the middle of the night
is that there is time
to think about all the thoughts
you pushed away before-
they creep up
and turn into waking nightmares
beastly what-ifs and why-didn’t-I’s

the insomniac is most insecure
with nothing to do

during the day you may
busy your tired body with tasks
ignoring the ache of the eyelids,
the pounding of the head

but at night you cannot
make yourself move
a house is sleeping
the world is sleeping
and you have to pretend
that you are as well

so you stare up at the ceiling
(you have memorized the cracks)
or you count and count sheep
(you have reached 100 and back)
and it’s all so pointless
don’t you see?

The Insomniac is fighting a battle
that never ends

a battle that makes you weaker everyday

how long till your body gives out
and will not fight
anymore?

My Life is screaming at me because
I am not really living it

I am eating
and sleeping
and acting this part in this play
in this Life

but I am living galaxies away
I am living and breathing
other people's lives
in this nostalgic way

While my body is lazily
flipping pages
my mind is racing
my soul is crying out
for these people
these stories I can
hold in my hands
and caress in my mind
but never truly live.

I am alone
clawing at dreams
and wishes
wanting to just be held
as reverently as I hold these words
but remembering it is
this room,
this bed,
these books
that are holding my body
back
....while my mind still wanders

You love energy drinks like they're a drug
smug
you gulp down the last drip
that drop
that you can't resist.
In favor of the rush
touch
like nothing ever felt before
you want more
and I...just wanna go to sleep.

I love sleep like a it's a drug
lug
that pain away with one intoxicating dream
between
the warm blanket and the duvet
where my meditation
station
begins.

Why,
pray, try,
do you throw away the gift of sleep
sheep
so easily
Instead you waste yourself away
like prey
drinking those drinks
with the caffeine that'll shock
mock
your system
without care.

You feel the energy
elementary
you think it means you’re awake.
What a fool,
tool
as your eyes droop behind the garish grin
and your head aches
takes
but you thought it was the boredom

I’ll take advantage of my sleep,
keeping
my head up high
because I’m the one really awake
take
your energy drinks far away
from me

Sleep is the ultimate friend
sending
yourself into a deep relaxation
can’t find anything better
my love letter
to sleep

O sleep, never leave
deceive
me with your dreams
awaken me with true energy
memories
of a good night with you
is better than any man.

She kept tripping over her feet
because that was the thing to do
and everyone laughed
and she laughed with them
and no one else tripped
Or danced without music
But she was ok with that
For that was the year she was "bold"
As she decided it would be
And when she woke up groggy and sick
She thought, "this is living"
And gulped down whisky for breakfast
to dull the headache

She wore short skirts and lace bras
because that was the thing to do
and all the men stared
and she let them
and no one asked permission
Or questions of value
But she was ok with that
For that was the year she was "confident"
As she decided it would be
And when she woke up in another stranger's bed
She thought, "this is living"
And gulped down a plan B before breakfast
just to be sure

She cried herself to sleep every night
because that was the thing to do
and she didn't tell anyone
and no one ever asked
and no one ever questioned her sour moods
Or the shadows under her eyes
But she wasn't ok with that
For that was the year she became depressed
As she found out it would be
And while she laid in bed
She thought, "this is dying"
And she downed medication for breakfast
to make it disappear