Dancing With the Temptress

My mind is awake

Every morning at three before daybreak.

Reviewing over the same material makes my brain shake,

An inevitable mind grain hones its stake.

The room is asleep.

Visions of the past, the present, and the future store in my keep.

Drowsiness sneaks a wistful peep

While fancying dreams weep.

My eyes dip shut, warning soon I'll faint.

My head toys with dreams meant for a stressless saint.

My shoulders heave as a salty shower mixes with taint;

My textbook below collects the creator's paint.

After the fit, exhaustion desires its lease.

It beckons a tease.

"Catch me if you please,"

sleep coyly calls without cease.

The urge to succumb is steadfast as my brain races with the to do's and ought to's.

My brain feels like it's going to explode, and right now, I wish an hour of rest would coo.

As I stare with despair, cruelty cries its fake boo.

I've been awake for early of day two.

I'm awake and everything's asleep while faint desires to lease, but the ought to's won't allow me to sleep.

My head jerks up for the umpteenth time. I must get an A plus. Nothing lower is acceptable.

I watch daybreak and remember what's in my keep while wishing for the sand saint to come as dreams tease and coo for an unconscious utopia.

The emptiness in my stomach brings on a pulsating roar in my brain. I can't eat, because I'll be called fat freak. Like every night since year six began, I've managed to skip past the daily meals.

I can barely think straight, everything that I just put in my brain, well, only half of it remains. The last hour passed in a daze of complexity because exhaustion stands by my side like a loyal dog.

My skull shakes as it takes a peep at the raining taint betraying to please me, and I cry boo relentlessly onto the typed text until my tears run dry.

My hands burrow into my tousled mane in frustration. I don't understand this crap! Tears overflow out the corners of my eyes as I try desperately to wipe them aside.

As promised, the stake plants, leaving me to weep because the paint is transparent blue, falling without cease as I trudge to the orange sunrise of day two.

When the salty feast dries, I weigh the consequences of failure. This assessment is scheduled for eight am today, and if my grade should slip, I know I'll lose more sleep than I'm forcing pass now.

Slumber settles on top a peak.

Idly ahead, it's practically attainable in just a few leaps.

It's a bound away, maybe a skip the length of a Great Dane.

I can no longer resist the temptress, as I jump and my fingers swipe to snag the treat.

But in a snap, it disappears, leaving me hopelessly stuck staring with despair at the dew.