Sleep not tonight
Or a thousand nights to come.
Give not the morrow the advantage of becoming,
Without your knowledge.
The when night loses the battle to light,
Remove yourself from the realm of consciousness
And leave that time to the squawking fools
Who think they rule the day.

The garret that was to be your refuge
Seems more like imposed containment.
Its slanted ceiling closes in.
You detect it in your peripheral vision.
The shadows from the other side disturb you not,
Their silence being their strong point.

The bats, the mice, the rats, the cat
Are not sleeping in sweet repose.
They watch you in shifts and
Are disappointed when the crumbs
You drop from your palette
Cover the color spectrum
Yet tasteless.

Acrylic, oil, and charcoal
Do nothing for the hunger pains.
Nor does a full stomach
Quell you weeping to create.
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