Somniloquy

I’m too sleepy for poetry
that weaves my threads of thought into a thousand tiny braids
twisted tendrils whose tensile strength only God must know

I’m too sleepy for words
that bend my gray matter backwards and sideways and forwards again
stretching and sticking like taffy that’s never quite smooth enough

I’m too sleepy for strings of letters
that interrupt my consciousness with their discontinuities
as even the most sonorous sequences slip into sudden silence