Good Night

I like sleeping
I like sleeping with blankets wrapped around me,
with arms wrapped around me,
with jackets, coats, sweaters wrapped around me
with unconsciousness floating through my veins making
my daily fears come to life in my dreams,
but hey,
real life doesn’t melt away when you wake
so I’ll put up with one more demon
for one more night
in hopes they might die in the presence of light
in hopes they might die at my hand
but that’s a double-edged sword I’m handling
and after enough time of dealing with sliced
hands, I will hand it over to my dreams

and I own’t tell everyone that’s what’s killing me,
in fact I’ll likely tell them it’s fatigue,
“oh I didn’t sleep well last night”
when all I’ve done the past few years is sleep.
how am I still so tired?
hour after hour passes by
my eyes still closed tight.
but I won’t tell that to those who mock my yawns
“you’re young,”
they tell me
like at the age of seventeen I have not yet earned the right to not get enough sleep,
as though fatigue is only allowed after a husband and two kids and a happily ever after family.
but that’s not really my problem, “not enough sleep”

my problem is that dreams have turned into
nightmares that seek refuge in my thalamus and stick with me
while I pretend to be happy for those who don’t
think I even deserve to be sleepy
and these refugees have started to pick at my
broca’s area and tear apart my brain pons for
their own selfish reasons
like constantly making me sleepy
so that they have some chance to live again
in my state of unconsciousness

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