On sleep

I sleep at the edge, in the suburbs, on the skin of sleep. I sleep knowing the blissful depths beneath me, unable to swim down. And then I’m awake and if I’m awake then I need to pee because I always need to pee and then I’m bobbing around in some pretense of sleep again and then it’s morning. And I wonder if it’s nature’s way of preparing me for what’s coming / making the transition easier, or if it’s just mean and horrible. Probably mean and horrible.