We have now entered the birds-chirping-all-night season.
sleep
At two-fifty-nine
Prayer to the middle-of-the-night gods:
please let me sleep
thank you for the beautiful moon
and winter silence
but please let me fall back to sleep—
no offense.
Amen.
Insomnia ticking
three o’clock —
anxiety, regret
in the depths of worry
swept away in the
whirlwind of nothing —
a horrible nothing
—blackout poetry created from Octave Mirbeau, The Diary of a Chambermaid, 1891–1900, page 6
Exhaustion. A Poem.
Exhausted. 🥴
Can’t freakin’ sleep
Insomnia is invisible
but hard as concrete.
—blackout poetry created from Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club, 1996, page 21
Summer-nap
I drifted into a summer-nap
under the hot shade of July,
serenaded by a cicadae lullaby,
to drowsy-warm dreams of distant thunder.
My intentions
I will get a great night’s sleep. I will wake up refreshed and ready for a serene and productive day. I am happy. I have energy. I am energy. I am brave. I respect life and nature, and I respect my body and mind.
Recovering in bed
The best substitute for coffee is a good night’s sleep.
A day without a nap
A day without a nap is like a cupcake without frosting.
Loudness in the quiet
A clock is ticking
in my living room
I never even noticed
that it makes noise;
my mind is ticking,
my heart is ticking;
everything quiet
is audible at 3 a.m.