How a Poet Sleeps

Our minds don’t stop

On a perpetual treadmill

Un-ordinary tragedies crowding out

Other emotions

Like hope…light fading in bitter  

Interactions, a mutual attraction  

Conversations that will never happen

Stories unwinding

While we lie between sheets

Of anxiety and prostration  

Brimming panic

Because we aren’t what we want

To be

And we will never be

What we want to be

Tragedies in the brooding night….

Hovering

…a figure

Stands stoic in the doorway

Just staring, standing

He’s not real…  

But we must keep our eyes closed

To fool ourselves

Because we fear the fatigue of

Tomorrow.