Paean To Pain Poem by Abraham de la Torre

We slumber silently. Muting
speech
and snoring noiselessly.
Consciously. Careful not to
exhale the long day.
It is not easy.

The air-conditioner drips
a monosyllabic leak
attacking the wee corners
of wakefulness
flooding the darkness
with prickly stars relentless.

Our eyes survey the sleeplessness
and search for sleeping bags
that somehow sedate.

There is no therapy
for thoughts that are already
trying not to think.