Dream now. Sleep later.

The night before last,
the world was a melody of
sleeps violin that I didn’t dance to.

No matter how heavy my
eyelids became, my heart was
always there to keep them up like
a spotter overseeing a bench press.

Shouting,
“tomorrow you will sleep like
a man whose dreams are there
when he awakes; not like a one-night stand,
watching your hope slip away with the night.”

The bruised kind of nights,
that hit you even harder in the morning.
Most call it reality, but I call it despair.

Because,
im sure the best way to silence your heart,
is to listen to the crescendo of its shatter.