didn’t so much sleep as fought for every second i got

woke up too many times

tossed and turned

desperately fought to return to dreams

it was a failure stretched over seven hours

if there was a championship for trying to sleep

for assuming a comfortable postition and seeking to yank defeat from the gaping jowls of insomnia

i deserve a ribbon of some sort

a fourth or fifth place finish

no giant trophy or place on the podium

but a sign of respectable showing

there were two or three times i thought i had it in the bag

nearly snatched victory

the final series of moves

my finding deep sleep moments before the alarm

just good on field psychology by my opponent

allowing for ten good minutes knowing the inevitable battle was lost

a teasing moment of success

the staggering steps to the coffee maker

heavy head and hands made of stone

i tried the go to bed the second you feel tired move

a classic

into the clear your mind and let go of everything

let the darkness swallow you

directly into the five minutes here asleep to fifteen awake and trying to reclaim it cycle

into the don’t think about the sheer volume of work in fort worth

which led me to the ton of work ahead and dread portion of the event

i lost then

work and thoughts of her crept my mind from willing participant to unwitting tool of insomnia

and then it became a game of minutes

if i could get thirty per hour

three and half strong

i can limp through the day and come home exhausted and finish paperwork and pass out

miss it the first night

make up for it the second

a gambit that has only failed before

leads to hopes night three is the sleep night

it really means a weekend of sleeping too much and a week of misery

four more nights of restless nothing and then sleep

i’ve got this