I’m counting on ewe…

I put head on pillow,

and immediately know

it’s not welcome

the sheet sighs beneath me

and the duvet reluctantly covers my skin,

snarling, it viciously bites my chin

I hold it down, tightly under my face,

and pray for sleep to quicken its pace

Tonight turning off the light will provide no darkness,

only a pathetic grey,

threatening the villainous

coming of day

I hear a clock tick;

one that doesn’t exist

and the persistent flick

of the numbers  on my phone,

climbing time.

Eyelids closed, but twitch to be opened

What if i do open them, just a crack?

Will I be awake then?

In the corner of my mind, I find

a super glue tube,

I line my sockets with its sticky white paste,

and close them,

My eyeballs vibrate and shake

desperate to get out,

What next?

I find a field of sheep;

they gallivant and bleat aggressively

Shepherded by lunacy

they start to commit suicide,

one jumps off a cliff,

and another strides behind,

another is mangled in barbed wire

while one rolls in petrol and sets on fire.

I am traumatised,

I nurse one and try to close its wounds,

but fail,

crimson leaks on white fluff,

and I’m panting in a pinafore,

 I can’t take it anymore.

I force open glued eyelids,

to stare at the ceiling,

My mind peeling like a tangerine

Through everything I’ve ever done, ever seen

ever felt.

I can feel

the cold hard wood of the bench that seated my first break up,

the damp pillow of adolescence,

I smell my mum’s old scent,

but then comes the question I can’t circumvent,

a clearing of the throat, and a guttural voice comes in

excuse me, excuse me, excuse me

if this carries on, what will tomorrow be?


I imagine my body corpse-like, with eyeballs swinging on a cartoony spring,

My fictitious, exhausted self  is deranged and for some reason, scarily thin,

AND  nannying all the world’s children

AND guarding the nuclear button

with a sleepy head slowly dropping towards it,

looking for a little rest…

Yes – I beg for sleep, not just for me, but the good of ALL humanity.


Panic, like the sun, is on the rise

so I summarise my life,


then my future appears;

a four headed monster with vampiric teeth,

twists his neck and drools blood,

and that’s ENOUGH

eyes open, I look at my phone,

It’s 6.08,

It’s now, today,

no longer yesterday’s late,

and with nothing left to berate,

I wake up to the morning I’ve hated for 9 hours straight,

and find,

it’s actually sort of okay.