Appropriate for my current bout of insomnia, I think.
The trouble with circadian rhythms
they do not dance within my head
my body does not move within their time
and dreaming only by day
I pass through night restless
with no man to hold me
I've no sense of this passage
the night does nothing to me
I've no chemical reaction
except to the smell of my lover
in my bed to chain me back
to this human clockwork
diurnally opposed, nocturnally desperate.
Where sleep dissipates some pain
solidifies the wisps of memory
I've nothing to show but my sheets
twisted in the shapes
I wish I dreamed in.
No comments:
Post a Comment