Sleep, The Thief, and Me

I slept in again. How does this keep happening? Hours of my day stolen right before me. I never see them being taken. Has a thief ever been so clever as to make you crave loss? I so enjoy it that by the end of day I welcome back that thief I know is robbing me. I trust that this time I will shake myself from my hypnotic slumber before too much is gone. I wake a moment later, hours have past and I am too lethargic to chase that monster down the street to retrieve the time it’s taken.

I must rob it back. I must steal from sleep the thing that it most needs. I won’t chase sleep down the street, I will catch it in the act. Right as it leans above me to kiss time away from my day, I will lift my eyes and grab it by the throat. I will lift myself and throw sleep from my house. And when— as sleep has done before— it climbs back through the window, I will be waiting, awake, alert and I shall not rest until I am sure sleep has been locked away from my mind.