Sleep and other Drugs
Air fills my lungs,
But I am not sure that I am breathing.
I’m going through the motions,
Surviving without a deeper meaning.
How long will this feeling last?
Surely no more than the winter.
I’ll keep my feet moving,
Though I grow fatigued much quicker.
Sleep is my opiate,
I’m addicted to the drug.
I thought it was helping me feel better,
Until I realized the hole I’d dug.
I’d do anything to be happy,
But am obsessed with things that keep me sad.
I try not to let myself think about it,
Because the thought just makes me mad.
I will not let the darkness keep me,
Summer is surely on its way.
Until then I’ll find shreds of light,
And lay myself where they lay.














