Every day is the same; they wake up in the same bed, at the same ungodly hour, to the same monotonous ringing from the alarm clock.

They grumble their ‘good morning’s; whether they believe it is or not, rolling out of opposite sides of the duvet.

They dance around each other in the bathroom, the heat of the shower creating a fog through which neither of them can see; causing him to stub his toe on the toilet or the counter, and steaming up the mirror so she can’t apply her make-up.

They continue their ritual into the kitchen; flicking on the kettle, popping in the bread, pouring the orange juice; stirring the tea, catching the toast and spreading the butter and jam. Crunching and slurping together at the table, mumbling about what their days have in store; tapping texts on their phones, crinkling newspaper in their hands.

They peck each other a kiss goodbye and mutter a ‘see you later’ before going their separate ways.

But then Monday comes...

Mondays are different.

He knows she doesn’t like Monday mornings. It’s the very beginning of a new, long, tiring week. She never looks forward to Mondays.

So he changes that.

He sets the alarm on his watch a little earlier than other days; shutting it off before it can wake her.

He slips silently out of bed and tiptoes quietly into the bathroom to shower; leaving her smiley faces and love messages on the steamy mirrors.

He creates her favourite tea and makes her toast with raspberry jam; just the way she likes it. Picking a flower from the garden; whichever one looks the happiest and brightest, he places it all on a tray and pads back up to the bedroom to wake her.

She no longer sets her alarm on Mondays. She knows he’ll not let her oversleep.

He places the flower in her hair and drops delicate kisses; full of his love and affection for her, to the corner of her mouth, until she stirs gently.

She smiles on Monday mornings.

They eat breakfast in bed, covering the sheets in crumbs and giggling contentedly as the cat licks them up.

She hums in the bathroom while he clears away crockery, and always re-emerges with the flower tucked behind her ear.

It remains there ‘til night fall.

They never once look at their phones or the paper, far too focused on each other to pay anything else mind.

Their kiss as they part reminds them of their love for each other and of the good things in life; like strolls along the shore, strawberries dipped in dark chocolate, smiling sunflowers that open to a beautiful summer’s day, and of course, Monday mornings.

always the bridesmaid, never the bride
you have no idea how many times i cried
asking, "why me? why not me?"

well, for starters
i always oversleep
my eating habits are on repeat
i've worn the same clothes, same filth
for three days this week
i don't make an effort because i'm not going out
but no one asks me out because i don't make an effort
i write love poems i never send
i creepily covet people i consider friends
while my heart is stuck on the same old trend

hearts
yours and mine
your heart
pure and prone to breaking bones
my heart
crippled and casually crashing cars
the destruction duo
probably foreshadowing if i'm honest

i never get any rest
purple hues rise to the surface
furthermore, my life lacks any zest
and to top it all off
no matter how hard i've tried
i know i'll probably never be satisfied
so yeah
maybe that is why

i wrote poetry
he partied
i would overthink
he would oversleep
too lost within the oblivion
of trying to numb away
life
while i was here
thinking about "life" too much
writing about it too much
i enjoyed wine
on a quiet Tuesday evening
he enjoyed liquor
on a wild Friday night

surely
truly
love does attract
"opposites"
i loved him
and he loved me
but he didn't want to live
life
and i
wanted to write about it

we're sitting
in a ***** garage
blasting music
with lyrics
that i am so appalled by
this is his life
this is
it isn't mine

i am
the quiet
Tuesday afternoon girl
who writes her words
to figure out
life
while he is trying
to forget about his
on a Friday night

these lifestyles
we tried to clash
for far too long
so sadly
too long

i left
with love still
beating inside of my heart
because you could never
love me
the way you love
your Friday nights
like you couldn't love
my Tuesday evenings

love is so
crafty
and deceiving
it brought us to meet
we both understood
that life is sad
yet only i
could see its beauty

and our lifestyles
were too different
to sustain the life
for one another

Written 03.27.16

I am the boy who sits next to you in class. I glance sideways at you more times than you catch me, and we share laughs. I criticize your taste in music; it’s too loud and angry. You just smile and turn it up louder.  I am just the boy who sits next to you in class.

I am the one who texted you first because I had seen a movie that reminded me of you, and I told you about it as I watched the fireworks from the top of a parking garage on Independence Day. I am a friend, but I am not someone to whom you would tell your stories. I am the one who texted first.

I am your friend, and we spend hours on end, texting or FaceTiming as I harass children on Club Penguin and you scold me for being so mean. I am your friend and we send each other BuzzFeed quizzes and YouTube videos. I can tell that you like me but I can’t tell why. You are so much more fun than I am. You are much louder, and better at everything. But I am your friend.

I am the voice on the other end of the line when you don’t think you’re going to make it through the night. Days are getting shorter and nights longer and I’ve become the person you tell your stories to. And you tell me all of them, through tears or laughs, or both. And through tears or laughs I listen. I share with you my stories too, but for some reason they don’t seem as interesting, or important, or funny. You are more than me and I feel like you want me to be bigger. But I am the one who makes it okay.

I am yours. Now we fall asleep on the phone every night, and tell each other “good morning” before we open our eyes. You are with me all day. You are my everything. I do not show it, because my father taught me not to. But you are mine. And I am yours.

I am the one who makes you happy, and I take these months for granted. I do not know that in less than 4 months you will be packing your bags, screaming that I never do anything to make you smile. I take you for granted, and it is the biggest mistake of my life. But for now, I am the one who makes you happy.

I am the shirt that you only wear because it’s comfortable. You don’t necessarily like the way it looks, and you don’t love that it’s a little faded and a little small, but it fits you well in the right places, and sometimes makes you feel thin. You tell yourself it’s your favorite shirt anyway.

I am the one you need. I am the one you love. But I am not the reason you get out of bed anymore. The reason you get out of bed is the hope that maybe today will be better. Maybe today I'll do something right. I am the one you need, but I am the one who lets you down every day.

I am the stuffed animal in the corner of your bed that is falling apart, but you can’t throw it away because it has seen you at your worst and you would miss holding it.

I am watching us disintegrate as I stop being the one you go to, because I am so unreliable. I can only offer you words and you need more than someone who is just good with words. You need someone who can make you feel like you’re on top of the world, and that someone is not me. But you desperately want that someone to be me. You tell me you love me, and I answer quickly I love you too but each of us doubts the other, and neither of us believes ourselves.

I am listening to you suggest that maybe we should like... take a break and neither of us knows how long this will be, and neither of us knows if we’ll ever come back.

I am still telling you goodnight, and I still walk you to school because I still love you. But I am realizing that you better off without me, because you stay out all night to avoid thinking about me, and you don’t like coming home anymore because your bed reminds you of me. But I still hold on to you because I can’t bear to see you go.

I am just your bedtime story, whispering into the phone when you can’t sleep. And after you fall asleep I whisper my feelings to you, because I’m not allowed to speak them when you’re awake anymore. I am just your bedtime story because that’s all you need me for anymore. And that’s okay, because I don't need you to love me back, I will make sure you fall asleep before I close my eyes and I will call you in the morning if I haven’t heard from you yet to make sure you didn’t oversleep and I will still call you baby but only after you fall asleep and I will still kiss my hand before I hang up the phone and I will still pick you flowers and buy you donuts and walk you to school and remind you about the vocab quizzes in english class so you don’t **** yourself cramming the night before and I will continue to listen to the music I used to criticize once upon a time, long after you stop thinking about me. I will continue to love you and I will continue to be your bedtime story if that’s all you need me for.

I will forever be your bedtime story.

Written 08.21.16**

I am rereading these words and am made sick by the pathetic, desperate clinging words of my former self, less than 6 months ago. I tell myself I will never fall this deeply again, I will not lose myself to someone who stops appreciating me. I will not destroy myself anymore. I am healthy, and I am not ashamed of my emotions anymore.

Since when did a letter grade become more important than my personal health? A burnable piece of paper with letter grades and the same teacher comment repeated, became more important to everyone to know my "knowledge". That isn't knowledge if it's just forcing yourself to burn those words formed into a sentence for the definition of a words prefix and suffix. You barely remember anything because you focus on it for a week or two and then never go over it again. But if I oversleep or miss my bus or ride, or if I fall asleep during class or spend the majority of the year in the nurses office it's my fault. It's my fault to show that "HEY I CAN REMEMBER THINGS LOOK SEE I GOT AN A ON SOMETHING I WILL NEVER USE IN MY LIFE OR WILL EVER HEAR OF UNTIL MY KID IS SITTING NEXT TO ME STRESSED AND WORN OUT AND TIRED BECAUSE THEY HAVE NO CLUE ON HOW TO DO THIS AND I CANT DO A **** THING BECAUSE I DONT REMEMBER **** BUT HEY AT LEAST I PASSED RIGHT?"

Lisa and I were watching one of our favorite series last night, a Japanese manga called “The Way of the Househusband” and I could barely keep my eyes open. I went to bed at a decent hour (11:30) but when I got in bed, I couldn’t sleep, I just laid there. It was rude and caused me to oversleep.

I don’t mean to brag, but I can go from oversleeping, to bushed and showered in less than 15 minutes, I’m really a marvel of efficiency (with still wet hair), especially since we wear scrubs.
I grabbed my iPad, stuffed it in my rucksack, and hey, I was ready to go.

In the living room, it took me a moment to situate myself - it was a very noisy and disorienting environment - what with Lisa yelling at me for running late, but soon we were off.

Just a girl, her lemon ginger Kombucha, and her angry roommate, ready to face the world.

We stepped out into the morning and.. Ughh! I’d forgotten my AirPods. I double checked, not there.
Lisa gives me a threatening look. “PLEASE,” I begged, desperately, “MY AIRPODS!”
“OH, my GOD!” Lisa said, glancing, irritatedly at the Apple Watch I gave her for her birthday.

I ran up the stairs and was back in NO time, really, really ready to go.
Just a girl, her Kombucha, AirPods and angrier roommate, ready to face the world.

My sister’s apartment is about 7 walking minutes from the hospital. As we were walking, I had my AirPods in and was rolling with Kanye. I in NO way endorse his CrAzY. But If I start the day out, with “Through the Wire” and “Jesus walks,” I’m tweaked for whatever gamut Rebecca (my surgeon) has in store for me. I paused the slaps, momentarily, as we passed a herd of boys, but I was bouncing again in a blink.

Lisa and I are in the second week of our two-month, summer fellowships - shadowing surgeons (different surgeons) for “clinical experience.” The first thing I do every workday morning is bring Rebecca a large coffee (from the cafeteria). She comes in at 5:30am every morning of the week and leaves God-knows-when - certainly, well after we do at 4:30pm.

She spends the three hours before I come in, reviewing patient notes and surgical plans. I gently rapped on her open door. She doesn’t look up, but she knows it’s me.
“Good morning,” I whisper, Rebecca’s seated at her desk, working on her laptop. I set the coffee on her right side and after I remove the pre-existing empty cups, I hesitate.

“What’s up,” she says, leaning into her screen to check something as she keys to enlarge it.
“I have a small question,” I say, “Are we supposed to be filling out timecards?” She doesn’t say anything, continuing to examine the - whatever. After a few seconds, I added:
“Quinn said we have to fill out timecards.”

“Did he?” Rebacca asked, rhetorically, after a bit. She’d stopped studying the screen and gotten a faraway look. Then, after another moment, she said, “Well, bless his heart,” which made me chuckle, because we’re both southern girls and that’s shorthand for “f**k him.”

“Thank you.” she says (for the coffee). I’d been dismissed.
We have rounds in twenty minutes.

I love you like...

The moment that I realize I have two hours left and find out I didn't oversleep
The Anticipation of telling beautiful surprises that are so challenging to keep
The few seconds before we finally jump from a cliff that is just a little too steep
The tears that bleed from my eyes out of joy, and aren't accompanied by a weep
An uncontrollable smile after watching a puppy take it's very first spirited leap
The freedom I feel from escaping the herd removing ourselves from the sheep
The optimistic first steps of a child's feet standing up to life"s broom"s first sweep
The necessary silence rarely shared from a reflecting gaze piercing ever so deep

I think of you...when...

The pain finally doesn"t hurt
I wear my one favorite shirt
The Perfect word is finally blurt
Absolutely nothing left to exert
Finished work covered in dirt
The wind blows up your skirt
Organically we begin to flirt
Arrived Just in time for dessert


I need you like...

A runner needs his feet
A writer needs a pen
A song needs a beat
A rooster needs a hen
The cold needs the heat
The military needs men
A carnivore needs meat
A monk needs his zen

I miss you like...

A plant wilting from a drought
A dog laying by his owner"s grave
Silence misses a necessary shout
Hibernating bears without their cave
A champion boxer"s very last bout
An injured surfer watching a wave
An old man"s window looking out
Addiction misses his best friend crave

You are not the ocean because I do not know that well,
you are not a meadow nor a stroll around the park.
None of these things mean much to me, although
they're beautiful in and of themselves.
You are the scent of incense that used to attack my nose,
eventually I craved it, now the smoke in my room grows.
You are laying on my back in the middle of the road
a kickball flying over me, no worries in the world.
You are a caterpillar making it's way across the street,
climbing onto my open palm so that we may personally meet.
Suction cup feet, pipe in it's mouth a formal way of greeting me.
You tickle my taste buds like peta chips,
you're like sleeping through Christmas morning
(something I could never miss
on purpose,
but if I'm tired enough, I might accidentally oversleep.)
You are grass with ants on each blade
but I lay in you anyway
roll around
breathe
it in
laugh, think,
when did this begin?
When I stopped appreciating little things.
The freezing water of a pool in the shade,
baked beans and a fire place.
New York City vendors
selling handicrafts.
My town written down
tucked away with other maps.
You are
an apple all sliced up without the skin,
you are the worm inside it, too.
Where did this begin?
You are a tree,
now trace my roots,
later trace my skin.
But only when I've figured out
what's missing from within.

I have an exhaustion,
Buried deep under my skin,
And as hard as I try,
I can't seem to rid myself of it.
I oversleep and under-sleep,
I overeat and I under-eat.
I try just short of everything,
To find any ounce of energy,
I lost so long ago.
But I should have known better,
This was not just exhaustion.
No amount of sleep could cure
what I am plagued with.
An exhaustion not from lack of energy,
but from a lack of euphoria.

Mondays
When I oversleep
Forget to eat
And fall out of seats

Mondays
When they hate on gays
"What *******" they say
And reject all change

Mondays
When the people are biased
And no one's ever quiet
And the children rebel and riot

Mondays
When people are killed
For someone else's thrills
Against loved one's wills

Mondays
I say
But, in truth,
It's everyday.

542

I had no Cause to be awake—
My Best—was gone to sleep—
And Morn a new politeness took—
And failed to wake them up—

But called the others—clear—
And passed their Curtains by—
Sweet Morning—when I oversleep—
Knock—Recollect—to Me—

I looked at Sunrise—Once—
And then I looked at Them—
And wishfulness in me arose—
For Circumstance the same—

’Twas such an Ample Peace—
It could not hold a Sigh—
’Twas Sabbath—with the Bells divorced—
’Twas Sunset—all the Day—

So choosing but a Gown—
And taking but a Prayer—
The only Raiment I should need—
I struggled—and was There—

if a goddess from above and lucifer had a kid, it would be you.
every weekend with you was new, but always started with you giving me a face full of make-up & one of your raggy shirts that i so desperately loved but you just picked up from your closet floor, not even thinking twice if it smelled or not.  i didn't really care though, because even if it was ***** & smelled like your usual pack of malboros that i hated, i would try to find the slight smell of your lavender perfume that your ex-boyfriend got you from a cheap kiosk in the ****** mall we refuse to enter.

every time i come over i have to wake you up because you always oversleep whenever you take a nap before we go out, leaving a half-eaten bowl of soggy cereal in your lap & i always wonder how the hell it doesn't fall on you but then i remember that whenever you sleep by yourself you never move because when you were eight you were scared of monsters sensing you in the dark & you didn't want them taking you so you never moved from your spot in your little twin sized bed.

you made sure to always take your moms car quietly whenever she fell asleep which was  usually around ten at night & i always listened to your instructions on how to follow you because i didn’t want you to be angry with me because you were known to have anger problems & that was one of the reasons you were sent to utah for a year.

you gave cats & sinners feet the path to run into mischief. you gave them wrath & you gave them love leading both to leave you & me wondering where you are now as i sit here writing this. hopefully thinking you’ll be in that little twin sized bed with your cereal & ***** shirts the same way i left you.

If wish you hadn't done that
Torn the blankets off me
And called me a *****
Mum, I was only 20
It wasn't anything I did
I never compromised my honor
Mum I really didn't

I wish you hadn't purposely
Let me oversleep
In hopes I would lose my job
Mum, I really couldn't figure out life
Was it that your man was helping me?
Was it that I was given the attention
A father should've given a daughter
Sure he's not my dad
But he likes to think he is

I really wish you hadn't done that
Let me go through
All the lies and accusations
While your ex incriminated me
Of things I have never done
I really wish
You hadn't waited for my tears to flow
At loss for any other escape

I really wish you hadn't
Put my friends above me
I really wish I could like Christmas
But the way I remember it
This was the occasion
To ridicule me for
Everything I was
And everything I would never be

And sure it wasn't just you
But surely you have come to understand
That this is how children compete
For attention
By teaming up against one

Mum I really wish
My school degree
Wasn't a way for you to evelate
Yourself above your sister in law
Her sons are doing so well
And you have two accomplished daughters
And one me
Who incidentally does
Whatever comes up first

I am so unpredictable,
I don't know what I'm going to do next.
I really wish I hadn't understood
And diligently ignored
The possibility
That maybe you're too broken
To really see that in fact
You are competing with your own children
For things that we never wanted
Nor cared for:
Your alfa female status.

Am I about to lose my mind?
I can't think enough
I can't think too much
I can't think, not even a bit.

I overthink, therefore I do think.
I oversleep, I stay up late at nights though.

I don't feel as if I were living.
It all feels like a dream, as if I were floating,
floating through my life.
Not living my life.

Barely,
Existing.
Maybe, maybe, I haven't lost my mind *YET

He asked me today
"What happened to us?
Why did things not work out?"

I told him - our religion tore us apart.

Our religion tore us apart
Why does love have to be measured
by who we pray to and not who we are
Thinking of that still breaks my heart

Our distance increased
Our love deceased

Today I am speaking to you again
It makes me feel like I’m standing naked in the rain

Where were you these 4 years?
Because when I think of love
Your name instantly appears

My heart is filled with fear
The fear of the unknown

As I sit here in fear
In my eyes there are heavy tears

I’m overwhelmed by our conversation
Not because I’m scared
Just because I have so many questions

I want to look into your eyes
Hold my body close to yours
And secretly wish you do not hear my cries

I want to cry, but I don’t want you to know
I want to cry because I broke your heart
I want to cry because I left you hanging
I want to cry, but I don’t want you to know

You are 8,192 miles away from me
Yet I feel like there is not a single part of you that I cannot see

I am writing this while you sleep
I am writing this slowly because I am falling deep

I am writing this while you sleep
But baby please don’t oversleep

I have someone I love,
but they are far away

So I'm going to try and live like Horace, as well as many others said
And "seize the day"

He's a poet and I'm a poet
Living and breathing as one
When we're together and when we're apart
Missing each other like the moon and the sun

But our words keep us going
Without seeing each other's faces
I long to be with him more than anyone else
To travel all different places

My love, he's genuine, and kind, and sweet
Brings me flowers on days I oversleep
Promises my heart a place to keep
And meets me at the end of the road in bare feet
With nothing but a smile,
And a warm
White sheet

Ferraris fit for racing
Being iced "Gelato"
tasting Italia
No sleep for Mama Mia
Customs of loving
The Zzz Z's

Sunrisers * God bless U
Sneeze
My Wine and cheese
Don't snooze
Pancakes not to share
Syrupy so Zippy
Show someone

"U Care'
The zest of trippy

The timeshare
Calendar date
The lust stare
reminder
"Keep the Date"
Don't dream blind her
To find the biggest
spender
We R the world
compromise
Love her like nobody else
Could take her place

Be the kinder true lover
*       *       *       *       *       *
Catch up Zzz z"s
Wake up Buzz
Cop some Zzz z"z
Get off the computer
D's 4 dummies
The zest of love
is fate
Wake up from those
dreams no time 2-B
Late

All V's Validate
Victory
Valiant
Valentino
cappuccino
(Valentine days)
I Luv paydays
Vows

I Crown U
Queen B bee BBB
Holidays B bills
Oh! GGG's
Gowns zigzags
designs

Give me a sign
On her head
"Queen of the Reign"

Zest smells of lemon
The best sleep she
ever had
Never 2-B sad

Zzz z"s zoonotic
Zillion stars in
L for Love
Hypnotic H's Henry
the 8th moon hum
He went mad Mmm
*** a humdrum
Robin Bird singing slam
Wait till he proposes on the
Tenth P & Q

Bbbbb's the blues
Those y's needed more
years_
Zig Zag catch
40 winks
Frequent flyers
of jet lag drinks

Only 50_ dollars it stinks
More Zzz z"s zap a zillions
Just crash fingers do
the talking
I pad in millions
Ssss Shh stalking
Bunk bed Beatles
bopping heads
Abby Lane walking

Zonk out what a time
Apartment 4- A he
balled me out
I feel stretched to my
limit V- Visa
I'm out to sleep
Rest recovery went way
too deep with Lisa

R-4 Joy my middle name
This is not about
all letters to keep
Or the Alphabet

Not takeoff movie set
This poem
New discovery,
To be happy

Don't oversleep_

Smiling like no other
sunset rose stem
Create your time
Lips met the sunset
Don't hide your
words with disguises

The call of duty
My Mom the lovely
"Judy"
She smiles never sleeps
My heart is tied with hers
To keep

What is the Zzz z's
Zealous
Delicious
Jealous
Love heart
Don't cut out my shape
Down to zero escape

Don't hibernate with
Zombies more hobbies
R for recuperation
We need better cooperation
Be the leader don't zonk out
The Army tank catch those
Zzz z's
Before your time is out

I woke up in the Mirror World,
Came down with flu, overslept,
Was late to work, I picked myself up,
And managed, as I often do.
But it was all a dream.

This one's a tad too close to home,
Though slightly askew.
Not the first time, won't be the last.
I skate just outside this reality,
Bending to its happenings.

The consequences, the consequences.
I wake up, slightly before my alarm,
I don't oversleep, but I'm sick, I feel it.
And I'll go to work and interact the same.
Carryout a reflected conversation,
Of a world that was just a dream.

All of this, while holding on to sanity.

You can be alone but not lonely.
You can be lonely even when you're not alone.
I hear this over and over and I just nod like I heard it for the first time.
It's sad that I am both.
Lonely and alone.

The sun is setting into an orange gradient and I can still the smell the rain.
That familiar smell of the ground.
Outside the walls of my room, I know people are bustling their ways to go home.
And here I am on my bed, lonely and alone.

Do you ever just want not to wake up?
I oversleep and even if I've had enough and my head is already aching from hours of pressure on my head,
And my eyes are hurting for I have been shutting them in force for hours long,
I am just not ready to wake up.
I have no reason at all.
Or maybe I'm just tired trying.

As I'm thinking about it now,
How each passing day is getting more difficult to live,
I realized how nice it would have been if there's someone who could tell me,
"It'll be fine. You'll be fine."
I hope someone could spark me some hope.
Like who cares if it's false.

I am so Boring That…

Morpheus takes my correspondence course
I teach the House of Lords how to induce snores
I make strong men yawn with my tired metaphors
I am on retainer with all the best sleep clinics

I am the reason the grooms in Macbeth slept
Hypnos and Nix envy me and my skills
Rip Van Winkle was wonked out by my rhymes
My verses make for Odin’s yearly sleep

I wield my Sword of Soporificity
And the condemned oversleep their executions

Look upon my cliches’, ye mighty, and despair, hahahahahaha…!

I didn't even realize something was wrong
I thought April, last April, was the last of it
That you got better
That I was going to see you again
If I had even thought it was a possibility
I would have hugged you harder at Christmas
I wouldn't have let myself oversleep
I would have stayed up all night
Just so that I wouldn't have missed your last visit

I didn't even know you smoked
That there was a chance of me loosing you because of that
I never even smelled it on you

I thought you would get to meet my kids
See me get married
See me become a grown woman
See me graduate college
See me graduate high school

But then the police came to the door
And I heard enough to piece it together
To figure out you were gone
Why
Why now
Why my Dad's birthday?
Of all the times why now?

Amid the darkness,
the moon shines bright.
The sky scattered with stars.
You lay your head.
The day is done.
To pause for a moment,
To recharge.
Is the world asleep?
Are you the only one
With heavy lids,
With ticking mind?

Needing sleep,
Your brain refuses.
Is there a list to write,
a moment needing worry?
You check the clock
the time ticks on.
5 hours till your alarm,
Four hours, three, two
Will you get any sleep?

Panic starts to creep
You'll oversleep,
You'll  miss the day,
What if you never wake,
What if no one wakes?
How can you sleep?
There's thoughts to be had.
There's chores to list,
Your day to plan.


Where's the pause button,
The off switch?
The mind can wait,
Tomorrow will come.
Rest those lids,
Let yourself go
And drift away.

Here in the world of dark and deep...,
Offer me the undisturbed eternal sleep...
The harder you try but unable to peep...,
Don't want I to show you my scars and grief....
Preserve your presence as I'm unable to keep...
Lake, Ocean, Sea..tears are in all seep...,
Forgotten the present,unaware of need...
Optimization of memory and  your talks that creep..,
Searching you in all dreams and deeds...
Beatless by heart, life growing reminders that feed..,
No peace, instability and and powered by oversleep...

The wheels keep rolling,

non stop in and out the time-


zones we oversleep.

My eyes haven't been able to adjust to the light around me quick enough before my mind already started thinking. "Did I oversleep?", "I'm never going to be able to be successful." Oh how some days I hate being me. Feeling defeated after only being awake for 5 minutes, I beg myself to even be able to go back to sleep for 30 minutes to restart my day. After arguing with myself about what the best thing to do is, I get out of bed 45 minutes later. Wash my face, brush my teeth and find a decent outfit. 1 hour into my day and I'm on the edge of an anxiety attack because I feel so self conscious in my own skin. I look in the mirror and really hate being me. A day of school goes by, and I nervously watch the clock tick closer to 4 pm. I love work but I also hate it. Why do I feel the need to fake my happiness to make others feel better? Im so toxic for my own self.

You sneak in my room as I turn out the light,
You whisper in my ear,
“You know they don’t like your right?”,

You leave me sobbing and shaking,
You leave me broken from the fight,
“What more do you want from me, is it my life?”

In the morning you oversleep,
I try to get ready,
As I leave for the door,
You manage to grab me,

I can manage a smile,
A few simple greetings,
But you won’t let me chat,
You want to tell me the horrible things they are thinking,

You are not my friend,
You are not trying to help me,
You are the dark voice in my head,
And I will not let you beat me

a sunshower burbles —

as it trades hemispheres

with the opposite side

of a street.

laid out bone-dry,

sped into the sheering turn

of a mountainous cloud.

the washed out curve

of a storm’s prophesied

color — left to unbox its monster.

commanding the ogling eyes

of fish schooling town.

their sloughing motions

opening and closing like

purple umbrellas —

prepared for a far off

land too near the refuse

of fading shelter.

the template of promise,

poring over unmanifest

milk and honey.

silence becoming the culmination

of a mass exodus —

a version of itself long

to roam.

until another version of

itself thoroughly destroys it.

all that would be the aghast

ramification of encounter…

disposed of as neatly as what

was, and then is not.

an unrestored space — where

there is not much to tell.

another purple entelechy

that went on as if

varied.

here is a whole…

that does not oversleep

when sounder than sleep.

resurrections are not singular

events — they can not be,

if death is to be revived

as much as exhausted.

which is that whole,

finally yielding no place —

where a storm’s color

may be prophesied.

gone too — purple entelechies…

gone too — The Purple Entelechy.