There’s no point in going to bed
Or closing the shutters on my eyes
Because I believe that sleep is for the dead
And rest I don’t prioritize

There is no American noise
When everyone else is quietly slumbering
One of my favorite parts about three AM
Is peace and tranquil wondering

My brain is like a pair of eyes
And the optometrist is changing the lens
Conjectures and notions are out of focus
Here and there and back again

My mind is an untuned radio
Thoughts, an endless garble of static
I’m swimming in between the airwaves
And my body functions are automatic

Languor sometimes hits me
Like a wave crashing on a shore
But soon enough it has dissipated
As if it was never there before

Count the circles ‘round my eyes
Like the rings on an ancient tree
How many sleepless nights am I at now?
Because melatonin is an escapee.

My spirit is miles and miles away
Wandering where it wants to
If only someone would bring it back
Since sleep is long past overdue.