Sleep is the thing that keeps me awake.
I can't focus, eyes lugging behind, vision strained
As a world meant to be steady tips away
Moon and star, wind and rain
I belong somewhere else
There's nothing else to say
My mind fights for control against a tired being
Every event tomorrow to the minuscule detail,
Head aching with a voice cold and freezing
Cast the boat, white knuckled grip on the sail
Refined, sharpened, maximized, perfected
I never know when to stop until it's too late
Who knew ballots could be cast, a new leader elected
Hide in the shadows––I'm okay, I am awake
YOU ARE READING
The Ghost of an Echo: A Mad Collection of Mad Poet Poetry
PoetryAn absolutely MAD Collection of Poetry by yours truly. Spiral into outer space and ride rollercoasters of mayhem and wonder. Anxiety is real. It's time we talk about it. New poems every week! #1 in whimsy #4 in fantastical
