No sleep for the blessed

This is my corner of the world:
A white room with nothing except the flag of my ancestors.
Too small to really see;
Look anywhere and you see it all.
It’s mine nonetheless.
There’s people always coming and returning; going and leaving.
I close my eyes and everything is on full speed and then some.
No time to even put down furniture, there’s so many people.
Then again,
Who would want a chair over a voice?
A television over a lent ear?
People laugh sometimes,
‘Why don’t you get out?
It’s such a nice day.”
To be honest, this has always perplexed me.
You confuse me by putting such an importance on this day,
Instead of that one.
Do you need a reason to enjoy yourself?
Besides that,
Why should I leave?
The world invades my cubicle on a daily basis,
And makes camp on the verge of my dream world.
My friends and compatriots have no limit to their loyalty!
They will not even allow me the simplest of treasons,
A good night’s rest.
And I should thank them every morning, methinks.
This dreamlike drowsy state that allows me to persevere,
And fades midday,
This, this is a good way.
It is restful while conscious,
And allows me more life!
Such a great system,
Perfectly attuned to its imperfections and the flaws are masterfully crafted.
Can we revolt against the simplest part of us:
Our bodies?
This may even be necessary.

Leave a Reply