Broken Sleep

Sleep has shape, you know?
One night dreams were drawers for me.
I shut each one on its raucous contents
only to find the next one open
and myself inside.
And there was the night of code,
whose methods and whose attributes
were useless, through every iteration,
for debugging my subconscious.
On such nights,
waking is a temporary mercy:
another dream will swallow me like a suitcase,
and I'll never get back the time I spend
packing and unpacking what's in dreams.

March 22 2016