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Literature Text
you told me you have trouble sleeping.
i'll tell you bedtime stories.
(you know those books with 365 stories; one for every day of the year?
i'll take you from january to december, and if you're still not asleep by then,
we'll do another year.)
i'll sing you lullabies.
(the kind that makes you think of the way satin feels on your skin and vanilla
smells and subtle beauty looks and bliss tastes, and i'll whisper all those things
into your ear to the tune of every lullaby i know.)
i'll lie with you.
(i'll hold you against my chest and kiss the top of your head and brush my finger
through your hair in a soothing manner. and if that doesn't help, then at least
the time is spent agreeably.)
if nothing works and you still haven't fallen
asleep, i will stay awake with you all
night and we'll pretend that
we're in your dreams.
i'll tell you bedtime stories.
(you know those books with 365 stories; one for every day of the year?
i'll take you from january to december, and if you're still not asleep by then,
we'll do another year.)
i'll sing you lullabies.
(the kind that makes you think of the way satin feels on your skin and vanilla
smells and subtle beauty looks and bliss tastes, and i'll whisper all those things
into your ear to the tune of every lullaby i know.)
i'll lie with you.
(i'll hold you against my chest and kiss the top of your head and brush my finger
through your hair in a soothing manner. and if that doesn't help, then at least
the time is spent agreeably.)
if nothing works and you still haven't fallen
asleep, i will stay awake with you all
night and we'll pretend that
we're in your dreams.
Literature
awakening.
for the first time
since november
human contact
isn't like flurries
of marching ants
over a wasteland
of puckered skin
stretched from
growth spurts
and sun burns
for the first time
since november
knees falter into
bedridden comas
on copper ground
wearing matching
threads of violet
defying the sky
and breathless
communication
for the first time
since november
fingers scamper
to find loopholes
in coiled muscles
and weak tendons
to break up bonds
as if not to allow
the movements
of feeble wings
for the first time
since november
blood cells swim
in thick fluid from
noses onto lipstick
hiding the fractures
and f
Literature
Sleep
I've been drunk
on half sleep
for four days now,
I know the underbelly
of morning,
the way five o'clock
smells.
I've been painting insomniac
birds on the ceiling,
perpetually in flight,
their eyes half shut
with no chance
of change.
I thought I saw you
through the moon roof
on Thursday night,
when I drove
to the water
to watch the geese sleep,
the ships lay down
on dry dock,
the train
hush up the engine.
Last night I tried to hold
to your sheets,
your shirts,
but the bed
turned into pin-pricks,
my eyes
wide flashlights
until dawn.
Literature
insomnia.
o1
my mind runs like
empty trains as i stare
into the dark ceiling, wondering
what it would be like to dream.
o2
there are notions running through my head
that i cannot turn off,
that i cannot ignore.
i get up and write them down,
hoping that these thoughts will finally
quiet down and allow me to sleep.
o3
rain drips, drips, drips
down the windowpanes and causes
havoc on my brain.
they demand attention even as i get up
once more and
wish for the sky to stop crying so much.
o4
i count the jumping sheep and
5-6-7-8 wish for sleep to penetrate
through my shield of endless wake.
i notice that in the night light,
the ceili
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Comments22
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i will stay awake with you all
night and we'll pretend that
we're in your dreams.
<3
night and we'll pretend that
we're in your dreams.
<3