We sleep
when we are sad,
Not only
because our bones are bashed old train tracks, no
amount of
rest will ever mend.
But as a way
of refusing life,
shutting our
eyes to its colossal ugliness. Numbing our minds to its tyranny.
So helpless
are we in the face of its excruciating tragedies, the only way to survive
is not take
part. To reject it with lack of presence, and absent consciousness.
Turning our
vision away, towards the plunging dungeons of slumber.
Decline
engaging in the mockery of what it means to live, and be human. Which is
the precise
opposite of living, and the literal contrast to humanity.
