who sleeps to work and
works to sleep sounds
like a riddle. but i am
nothing but a fog within,
stuck in a fog that floats
around with me like dust
does to pig-pen of peanuts.
speaking of cartoons, that
would be the direction i’m
pretty sure i’d find myself
gravitating toward if my
vision weren’t impaired.
(from forces within and
without, as i am not sure
i already said, given that,
well,) there seems to be an
abundance of articles these
past few months about the
necessity of sleep, each and
all seem to suggest that if
one sleeps within regular,
consistent, structured
timeframes and doesn’t
routinely have erratic and
non-structured sleep or
if one typically skips nights
of sleep for whatever reason,
studies have shown that one’s
life is all too susceptible to being
cut shorter than normal thanks to
a lack of attention to enough sleep
and with regular or appropriate
durations of time at structured
intervals. this is the excuse i
offer for you today. why am
i telling you this? well, i suppose
as a public service, just a reminder
to anyone who might come across
these words to get yourself some
shut eye and post haste if you did
not get a good night’s sleep or to
do your best to fix any chaotic
habits you might have when it
comes to the shut-eye that you
do get. but mostly, perhaps,
it is a little warning that i am
very nearly about to pass out,
so you might see the end of
this piece that you’ve been so
kind as to read come soon,
and maybe even abruptly,
as if i’ve left the piece in
some important way
completely undone.
did i mention how
i believe my tendency
to be more focused
nocturnally, certainly
when there isn’t the
routine of a regular
job in my life, is
genetic? that
all of my family
are night owls?
but i am
morning
person.
that’s my
preference.
genetically
nocturnal,
i rest my
case by
crawling
into bed,
and, oh,
it’s a small
and broken
bed, which
studies have
shown is
also no good.
no good nights.
no good. good
night, i say, at
12:08pm in the
early afternoon.
i think i will, yes,
thank you very
much. i always
prefer the ability
to see, to write,
to think—so i sleep,
fingers crossed, i
sleep. there are
such poignant
ways i could
transition from
the stupor i’m
in with my eyes
half open to the
one i insist i’ll be
in just as soon as i
