How a Poet Sleeps

Our minds don’t stop
On a perpetual treadmill
Un-ordinary tragedies crowding out
Other emotions
Like hope…light fading in bitter  
Interactions, a mutual attraction  
Conversations that will never happen
Stories unwinding
While we lie between sheets
Of anxiety and prostration  
Brimming panic
Because we aren’t what we want
To be
And we will never be
What we want to be
Tragedies in the brooding night….
Hovering
…a figure
Stands stoic in the doorway
Just staring, standing
He’s not real…  
But we must keep our eyes closed
To fool ourselves
Because we fear the fatigue of
Tomorrow.