I do not sleep well on full
It may be an issue of proximity,
the push and pull of gravity
in competition, swaying the pattern
of brain waves in one hemisphere
as the tide goes out in another.
It may be the physical response,
an aching and discomfort which makes
aimless, midnight wandering
the added stress of Luna’s presence
bringing forth the revolution
in my bones.
It is somewhat…ironic(?)appalling(?)
the very youth
who (rightfully) scream
out, who stand with fist in the air,
who use their bodies as signs
in protest against authority, who incite
violence one night and peacefully
protest the next, marching arm in arm
demanding their God-given rights…
all in the name of democracy,
are the very same youth who
will surely fuck it all up once they
understand the power of the ballot
while completely misunderstanding
the nature and function of power.
I revolve the glass in my hand,
marveling at how the image of what
is swirled within always stays the same,
Condensation forms into drops,
runs down my arm, or falls to the carpet
to be absorbed.
Upon further examination,
perhaps moon is merely
the witness to another hopeless
revolution, and shares no responsibility
for my sleeplessness.