tired: a poem

came home
after work,
dog tired
and looking to
cat nap.

all I could think of today
was sleep.

not the work,
not lunch,
not dinner.

not weekend plans
or household chores,
or church.

just sleep.

I love the kitten,
but damn,
do I love sleep more.

eyes crossing,
staring and straining,
but not focusing.

head falling,
shoulders slumping,
everything sore,
lethargy overtaking me
like an energy vampire.
like Colin Robinson
from What We Do In The Shadows.

I drive home,
not remembering the trip.
spaced out like a drug addict.

I park,
come in,
throw my stuff on the table.
go in the room,
take a shower.

thinking of nothing
but the sleep.

close my eyes,
God, it feels good.

opening them
is a prodigious task
of Herculean proportion;
his strength needed
to pry the lids apart
and keep them up
like Atlas.

stagger out of the shower,
dry, dress,
shuffle to bed,
and collapse.

sleep hits me
before I realize it.

###

This is a poem from my first book, bearing the burden of existence, available on Amazon.