by Christos Polydorou

Sleep use to come so
easily. I’d fall

asleep before I
even completed

my sentence. You
didn’t have

to even mention
the word sleep to me

and I’d be dreaming,
adrift on cloud nine. Now

my sleep has become a thing
instable, benign, a beautiful

girl I saw
once on the Picadilly Line, my

has become like trying to

find that girl again.
I miss lifting my

soles, none of
that anymore.

I may even
have stopped

dreaming. This is
because for now

reality and dream
have replaced

another. Bullied

at thirty eight. Bullied
at thirty nine. It

makes me want to

when someone says to me
Try to get some sleep

and you want to
as much as you want to stay

even during these particularly

brutal forty eight hours
we have endured together.

It just knocks the air
out of you, sleep.

When you least
expect –