Hear the chimes ringing,
this sleepy Sunday singing.
Monday will bring persimmons,
and Tuesday a touch of snow.
Eyelids grow heavy,
the evening siestas are winning.
The trees shade are giving
and sweet scents are brimming
among these lovely Sunday trimmings.

Oh, what a fine Spring day.

eyes heavy
body sinking
into oblivion
i'm tired.

i'm tired
of always
being so
**** tired

i'm tired
of commitment
and no
follow through

i'm tired
of always
being so
**** tired

i'm tired
of repetition
and the
lack of

something original.

i'm tired of
waiting on reality
to catch up
with my dreams.

The things you say linger in my head a bit longer than they should.
I remind myself that those echoes should be taken with a grain,
and cynicism will keep my resolve alive.
I tell you I don't believe you when you say you've missed me,
while I'm stifling the excitement inside.
You're pleading when you ask if I am leaving you
and I put your mind to ease, even though all you can do is sleep.
You say you want me to stay but your offerings are modest-
lazy yet earnest, you kiss my forehead and doze off again.
You approach everything in life about the same-
except those of which don't seem to work the way you want.
Should I disappear for a while?
I worry I might be replaced.
I'm not quite good at all those games-
but I'll watch you play, you'll tell me the stories so maybe I'll stay.
I'll curl up on your sofabed and be your cat for the day.
And when I do leave, I'll wonder if you'll hear me pleading too,
You might think if there isn't distance I couldn't miss you.
That's not true.
That's not true.
At least I think- but take it with a grain and see me again.

Tomorrow I won’t be tired
Tomorrow I’ll work all day
Just let me have this moment
To sleep all my cares away

But tomorrow never gets here
Do it now I keep hearing you say
I’m not ready to rise from my resting
For a little more sleep I’d pay!

something about me is fallen
my walk is not the same
the lengthy strides I took in confidence
are now short steps that I fumble
the hours I spent sculpting my figure through exercise
are now spent in my bed asleep re living the nightmare
and you
you are especially different
the affection you poured onto me
and the time you devoted
are now excruciatingly difficult to live without
you fooled me into thinking we were something more
than a new story to boast through to your friends

twilight
the stars send shards of light into my room
i squint my eyes and look at the clock
almost dawn again
i toss and turn hoping the sandman will find me
before the sun rises and burns him up
restlessness
has always been a friend of mine
never enough rest to cleanse my fatigue
never enough moonlight to sing me to sleep
the bags under my eyes start to resemble a purple sunset sky
as my eyes continuously see the sun rise
my body, my vessel, what carries me through life
seems so worn down, so deprived of vitality
oh, la luna
why does it seem that i can never get enough rest under your guise?
my brain causes a racket, and before my eyes, the sun is taking your place
and i'm forced to leave my bed with a feeling of despair and exhaustion
i long to drift away in the early stages of dusk
to float elsewhere on the riptide of my dreams
i crave the idea of being a bright eyed girl
that gets enough sleep and has so much more to offer
but alas, slumber is truly so good at avoiding me
and my mind keeps me up, talking to the moon
we've become great friends, but i'd really like to find the sandman
and become better friends with my dreams, and the feeling of tranquillity

you smell sweaty (and honeyed,
like the Burt’s Bees soap you just
started using) I rest my
nose in the crook of your neck
and shoulder. I should like to
stay here while you do physics
(watching you write is
mesmerizing) but it is 1 AM
and my eyes hurt. I will
wake up eager at 3 AM when you
stumble into bed; pull you close
and mumble that I love you because
I do.
(the sweetest procrastinator)