Bleary-eyed, now listening to documentaries for audio stimulation,
after Rosanne became too annoying,
I lean back, dully realizing that only a few hours previous
I’d been dancing to the Pixies in my living room.

I stayed awake with Poetry; Poetry kept me awake while keeping me in a dream state,
through which I struggled, then revived, and cat-napped 20 minutes before The Who’s
“A Quick One While He’s Away” pulled me upright from the sofa.

Will I commit this sanctioned madness again? It’s likely.
But, for now, I want for nothing more than to not open the blinds,
pretend the sky is still dark and sleep soundly,
with Poetry waiting where I left her.