I wish I could lay like in a casket
Head facing the ceiling, gathering information from the tin lined ceiling
As easy as a trance, sleep conquering the eyes first and proceeding to move the remaining body to stasis
My pillow becoming a slippery slope of a deeper conscious state and disappearing into relaxation and rest recovery
Instead I fight with my side to eliminate every lump my neck finds
Until finally I lay on my stomach, opposite of my desires
And I compromise with discomfort to discover any reprieve I can grasp with my fingertips
9:30 P.M. to 6:15 A.M. in bed, 3.5 hours of sleep acquired
Will the doctors laugh when I ask them to prescribe me a decent pillow and a crack in my breathing?
Or should I work three times as hard during the daytime to guarantee the aching will no longer hold me back from waking anew?
by ty miller