Lucas Stensland

Some Crawlspace

I haven't really slept in some weeks. It's hard to say why it started. All I know is that the lines of my face are heavier drawn, and the skin under my eyes is darkening every day. Daydreams of naps have become a motif of this newfangled weariness. Out for my nightly constitutional, I peak in Bryant Lake Bowl and consider a black Russian. Standing in its doorway, I rest my lids for a moment. This is ridiculous, I realize then leave. Back at my apartment, I undress, shut the lights and roll into bed. Eyes closed heavy, a strange tingle popcorns through my body as if it weren't used to shuteye. The tingling builds. And the ceiling is ungodly quiet. I begin to giggle.

all those stars
unseen in the day –
needing rest