Worry and fret

Get stashed

In the bedside table


The darkness

Of the late hour


Makes your blurred vision

Temporally meaningless


Fighting with your eyelids

Just stalls your reality

From your date with fantasy


With your external senses

In dire need of rest

Your mind relaxes and explores itself


This is when the best ideas come

Free from pragmatism and structure


Every night I make a deal

With the Sandman


Exchanging half baked poems,

Delusions of grander and possibilities


For a one way ticket

Down the rabbit hole


The swap over tired musings

That make inventors wealthy,

Authors captivating, and crazy people

Just that


For a restful sleep

And a return to the ordinary

In the AM


So next time,

Try to barter with your nighttime friend

Maybe your eye crusties


Might just be the genesis for your next poem


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