Protest Dreams

Sleep haunts me at midnight

and I wait for the ghosts.

My dreams wail for closed eyes,

but I am stubborn and I stay

wide awake protest.

I count the minutes in tile lines,

shadows, and bucket list requests.

I convince myself I still want to be an astronaut,

and I will visit the moon,

so sleep can wait to bring sugar

to the Man in the Moon.

I keep myself awake for goal setting,

and try to fool myself that insomnia

hadn’t brought depression to room for the week.


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