The days I can’t find. I’ve looked;
I cannot see beyond the pillow.
I’ve tried and tried, but in my dreams
Are my dreams; My aspirations are of sleep.
During the day fall is my night rise,
Wakefulness is my fight, my solemn right,
and my struggle, what trouble.
The musings of malcontent
Infesting my consciousness
Like the nightcrawlers writhe.
Beneath my feet, the centipedes,
And all other things that impede
hide under the folds, nooks and crannies
of the darkest parts of my being.
Above me, the moths breed
In my fleeting thoughts of recluse.
Within my eyelids, I find refuge
And my only respite is when
The day stays away and my night stays night.