I know I should get some sleep
but my eyes won't flutter closed
I try to squidge them together
force myself to sleep
but the tension doesn't work
and I find myself
writing poetry at 2:43 am

my WiFi turns on and off
only just enough for me to ramble to you though discord
cause your phone broke

you cant even reply tho
you're out of service
outta town
but texting you gives me peace of mind
slows the jumbes in my brain
so I continue to do it
for the unacclaimed audience

I'm still not tired
I still can't sleep
I can't read a book
cause then I'll stay up all night
and that's what started this whole mess

The fan whirring above me
the mechanics of it working almost effortlessly to stir the air of the room
almost
but it squeaks a little
I can hear the air through the vents
and my ears pick up on the brass ticking of the clock beneath my bed
its all too much
too loud
and as everything else goes quiet
my awareness moved to my own body
my heart beating in my chest
my breathe moving between my lungs
the blood coursing through my veins

there is never silence