Sleep Deprivation

Strange to be the last awake.
To stare into nothing,
pretending to do
something.
To take a picture
from a frame with cracked
paint on the edges, and pull it
to our faces with our mindlessness,
with arms out to catch the rush
of cloud as it falls from our feet.
We lift a feather pillow
to suspend it on top
of the peaches
that grow
out of the living room river.
Now I step on them,
an airy, bubbling jam
or jelly—I never know.
The rug is an ill blue.
The couch retires into itself
and welcomes me
as a worn traveler named
Peregrine.
I still walk on the peaches,
my toes motionless
like the shadowy moving pictures
the painters drew on
the ceiling.
My light and dark matter
makes meaning where I find
that fruit sprouts from only
water.
That makes sense.



Seriously sleep deprived... it's 2:00 A.M.! Yeeeeaaaa! (Does it bother anyone else that "yea" is spelled like "yay" now?  Everyone thinks I'm saying "yeah", but really I'm just stubborn in changing my word choice...)  This is supposed to be based on Gary Soto's work.  Haha.  But it really seems absolutely nothing like it.  But, you know what? Whatevs.  Maybe he'd write about sleep deprivation in whatever way it came to him when he was really freaking tired too.  Kiiiiinda mainly "inspired" by "Looking Around, Believing", I guess?
Last line because... what the heck, it's 2:00 A.M., I can do whatever I want, right?  And... if we wanna get all serious, people have a lot of issues with more abstract poetry, I find, even though this isn't really abstract.  Everyone thought "Above Each Other" was really abstract and couldn't figure it out at all -- but they thought it was okay.  There was only one person who really had issues with not understanding it, and would prefer to... so, still pondering making edits on that. 
WHY AM I NOT WRITING MY LAST POEM OF THE NIGHT?? Gah. :-( I wanna sleep instead.