This poem isn't about love,
Or sadness,
Or really anything else.
It doesn't have structure
Or really any deep, philosophical meaning.

It is about sleep
And how hard it is.
At first it is slow
And then very quick.
If you feel yourself drifting
You're doing it wrong.

You can't pinpoint when you actually lose consciousness
Or when you wake up.
You can't remember
The beginning of a good dream
Or the end of a bad one.
Isn't that weird?

If you want to stay awake you fall asleep
And if you try to fall asleep you stay awake.

There is no method for falling asleep
And no talent for it.

Isn't that weird?

Weird.