Sleep

Sleep and I are in a fight.

She won’t answer my calls.

Countless voicemails I’ve left,

crying out serotonin-

laughing out the liquid courage-

Oh won’t you just pick up the phone?

I wish I could apologize for all I’ve done,

But apologies seem to have lost their meaning as of late.

So I’ll dial her number.

Again.

Pick up.

Dial tones aren’t a lullaby,

And all the sheep have ran away.

The monster under my bed is crooning for me.

Laughing at me.

Laughing with me.

Slipping into delirium as I scramble for a way to end this fight.

Call again.

Call again you idiot.

Dial her number.

Ringing.

please pick up.

Please just...

Pick

Up.