Counting Sleepless

I’m staring at the ceiling,

neon numbers in the dark.

Tomorrow’s creeping closer, I can feel it in my heart.

My thoughts are running circles,

no way to shut them down.

The night is pulling tight

like it’s trying to make me drown.

I breathe in slow,

but the world won’t fade.

Every timeline whispers like a tidal wave.

I know I should sleep,

but my pulse says no.

I’m stuck in the loop where the restless glow grows.

I can’t hit the pillow.

Dreams stuck waiting in a traffic flow.

I can’t hit the pillow.

Mind keeps spinning like a cosmic echo.

I can’t hit the pillow.

Tomorrow’s knocking with a heavy shadow.

I can’t hit the pillow,

still awake in the afterglow.

Uniform on the dresser,

but my body’s still in fight.

I’m chasing down the quiet,

but it slips into the night.

I tell myself, just breathe,

but the stars won’t let me be.

They flicker like reminders of the things I didn’t free.

Versions of me

in the multiverse speak.

One’s calm, one’s strong,

one’s feeling weak.

Their voices overlap in a cosmic blend.

All saying rest, but I can’t pretend.

I can’t hit the pillow.

Dreams stuck waiting in a traffic flow.

I can’t hit the pillow.

Mind keeps spinning like a cosmic echo.

I can’t hit the pillow.

Tomorrow’s knocking with a heavy shadow.

I can’t hit the pillow,

still awake in the afterglow.

Still awake.

Still

awake.