It’s been a restless two hours with no sleep in sight br Sleep is not what I do best at night br As I toss and turn, thoughts are scrambled in my head br Underneath my pillow, underneath my bed br Hiding with those demons that leave no receipts br I slowly rise, leaving an impression on the sheets br Of a forgotten and unfinished dream br And unfulfilled desires to the extreme br I reach for my note pad and pencil on the night stand br They waiting patiently as if I had a plan br I knock over my glasses disrupting my train of thought br Trying to remember what I already forgot br Carefully I tiptoe like a cat burglar for it’s’ prize br Shadow boxing with the cobwebs in my eyes br My pupils adjust to the dark br Being careful they don’t miss their mark br As I evade obstacles carelessly tossed aside br Soiled clothing trying not to hide br I’ve collected pathos everyone ignores br As I leave the room from a symphony of snores br I settle on the edge of a danger zone br I seek refuge on a porcelain throne br As if I didn’t owe any dowry debts br In my thinker’s pose I attempt to rescue sonnets br That repeatedly circled my crowded brain br Colliding with every unreasonable refrain br Why do these words refuse to sleep br Are they afraid of the dark and the deep br Why can’t they be like ordinary verse br Will 2 AM always be my cursebr br Alfred Ramosbr br