Poets logo

Sleep Comfortably

By: Jai D. Quinn

By Jai D QuinnPublished 4 years ago 3 min read
Like

Writers do not have the luxury of crying themselves to sleep.

The words, every word, every lazy abbreviation, every lackluster punctuation, or every run on sentence, stomps throughout their mind like relentless sugar plum fairies

Each word they count and recount and recount trying to find a meaning, a definition, a beginning middle and end before they are allowed to fucking sleep.

The words spread and beat upon their bodies, making every position uncomfortable to sleep in.

The fetal position is accompanied with personification of parents who never held you just right,

Mothers who taught you how to be a woman before you got to be a girl

Or the vacancy sign above a room you were supposed to find your father in

The fetal position is not for comfort at all, but the absence of phrases you should have heard in your childhood,

Sweet nothings turned to real nothings

Bedtime stories turned to bedroom stories

And the word “born” turning into a thing that you wished never happened to you

Sure, you could sleep on your back, but you have to make room for all that burden in your bed.

Try to sleep somewhere between the words of self doubt and self hate, without kicking off all of the dreams and aspirations that someone else left mixed up in your blankets.

Lay there stiff, rigid, the position you feel most comfortable in, the position you were taught is safest to sleep in, to hold yourself in.

Wrap your arms around so tight, and keep in every emotional word that tries to escape, or every mushy vowel pushing through your vocal cords in betrayal.

Breathe in, breathe out, and turn over.

Doesn’t matter what side. Left or right, you tell yourself it’s the dominant one.

You allow yourself to think this is a real decision you’ve made, and not just another predetermined fate thrust upon you.

This is your strength pose, and words of self affirmation try to bite at you like bed bugs to your flesh.

They take phrases like, “yes you can”, and “you are worthy”, pouring them out of you like a life force

Making you feel sickly, and injured, but you continue to tell yourself this was the right decision.

You hold position against their attack, and you lay there, you just lay there.

The fight is gone in you.

Bury your head in the pillow, leave your back exposed.

Allow whoever chooses to stab you, without even having to look you in the eye.

Puff up your belly, and eat the words “I give up”.

Let them consume you, and enter your digestive system.

Tell your brain you are no longer hungry for words because you are full in this phrase.

You do not need to buy a vowel, and you do not even wish to solve the puzzle.

You are tired, and the sleep won’t come.

Your eyes burn from reading your life in dim lighting,

With bifocals that aren’t your prescription,

Trying to decipher a language that isn’t your native tongue.

You are tired, and the sleep just won’t come.

You stare at your laptop, your notepad, your wall that you’ve scribbled every word you’ve ever heard on.

You look at the hands stained with ink where your veins should be, where your wrinkles should be.

You think of one final, ingenious word, the word to make you famous, give you everything you’ve ever wanted.

But you don’t write it.

Instead, you put the pen down, and finally lay your head to rest.

sad poetry
Like

About the Creator

Jai D Quinn

A writer working towards author one word at a time. Words spill out to tell the stories of the voices in my head, but I joined Vocal to tell a different type of story. My story.

@jai.d.quinn

Writing2Riches Youtube Channel

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.