the sweet mint from toothpaste,
harsh yawns like cats' claws
digging into one's thoughts,
and muddled conscious lull
me into a routine, as if i am
summoning a spirit to bless
me with the sweetness of sleep.
the shutting of the curtains,
the faint footsteps somewhere,
and the scribble of a pen
interrupt the invading thoughts
from another day, another life.
sleep is like pain.
you don't anticipate it.
you cannot estimate its
intensity, or even when
it's going to hit.
you just feel
