i know why
rip van winkle
is more of a horror story
than anything else
i get it
i do
but
sometimes i daydream of taking a nap
that lasts one hundred years
[give or take]
and that is when i finally
almost
barely
kind of
feel
any sort of
well-rested
vibe
why is writing this morning
like pulling teeth?
didn’t i go to bed early enough?
didn’t i get enough sleep?
didn’t i wake up relatively awake
and go on a walk to get the blood rushig up
from my feet
to head and hands and otherwise?
why why why is this such a struggle today?
still half asleep
still half deep in the
vibe that was yesterdays time
trying and trying to be, once again
a person who leaves their home now and then
but the sleep got me good
as i hope sometimes it would
and i know i really should
do something, anything to actually wake
but i have to say
this sleepy way
is kinda great
the vibes are
nap
rather than
panic attack
and that’s nice.
a night without my kip
is like seventy nights with only two hours’ sleep
is like all the comfort of a big bed and no cover for warmth to keep
is like relying on noises to lull you, and finding nighttime in extreme silence
for the first time
ever.
a night without my kip
is not a night of
rest.
a hassle of a night:
neither of us comfortable
neither of us falling asleep
[though we remain
quite sleepy]
the giggles take us,
then the frustrations,
then the crosswords
which usually lull us
instead carry us through the two-o’clock hour
of finding right answers
and finishing this past sunday’s puzzle
downstairs
with the puppy and
today’s crossword
[today today, since it is far past midnight]
to cuddle on the couch
snack in hand
trying to find where sleep might land
it finally does
[with interruptions, yes,
and puppy hassles]
but dreams do take us
eventually
dragging us
into a reasonable hour for awakeness
and here comes another
fretful
day
sometimes
i
forget that i
am human
and i push and i roll and i run and i expect
to go and go and go
and i get so
confused when i’m tired
or exhausted
or just feel off
and even more strange is when i
take care of basic human needs
and feel
a little bit
better
like
how am i, an inhuman cryptid
a god
an entity expected
to have zero needs
feel less cranky
when i get some food in me
or have a sip of coffee
or actually get eight hours of sleep
how dare my body
betray me by being
[the normal amount of] needy
i feel like this new day of a new week
is a whole new moment of a brand new life
i don’t know what it is —
maybe it’s the lack of upcoming stressors,
maybe it’s getting used to this
twenty-twenty-four
as we have it,
maybe it’s feeling confident in friendships,
maybe it’s feeling confident in circus,
maybe it’s because
kip
is no longer feeling
vertigo-y
or migraine-y
and i feel like we might be
past
the worst of whatever this is,
but
so
this feels so new/
so fresh/
so daylight/daybreak/break me out of my rut
even with the cold
even with the chill
even with the snow and ice still there on the ground…
maybe it’s artistic inspiration
flowing all over me,
maybe it’s puppies and cats
and 8 hours of sleep
[even interrupted
i’m pretty sure it counts up to that],
maybe i just forgot
all the reasons i have
to be sad —
whatever it is
i’m feeling
almost
glad
the wind howling all night
rain smack splat thwacking the windows —
the puppy and i, unable to rest our eyes,
for hoping the terror in the night
is just nature knocking a little too forcefully
on our door
[but fear it is something more];
staring into the darkness
hoping to see a clue being borne,
hoping to see the end of the storm —
unable, we slink to a different bedroom
a smaller, cozier, stiffer bedroom
thank goodness for a guest bed, one where i can
fall asleep
but i wish wish wish
it could be a bed
where i stay
a
sleep
all night
all night
alas, alack,
’tis not to be
[but at least sleep caught up with the puppy]
wild
wild
wild
what a little sleep
[and by little
i mean
the normal amount
a human needs]
will do you
[me]
my eyes droop
heavy-lidded
with sleep not-yet forgotten
dreams hold me in their vice-grips
and i can’t escape
even what i can’t remember
i once asked someone what some part of my personality
meant in terms of the rest of me
and they stated, very plainly, that i don’t live in reality
(at least not when i can help it)
and i completely
agree
kipventures 