Why Write When I Can Sleep?

Silence is nice
in the course of a tapping day.
Silence is just quiet;
hands keep moving
and the air conditioner
sounds sleepy and old.
I am sleepy, but I am not old,
and the hospital I think of
is not young,
but black shoes
with white soles are.
The halls are empty
and sloped and curved,
to make walking easy
and to make falling hard,
and the colors on the windows
suggest that blindness
can see color
when faced with whiteness.
Now it is dark,
but still sleepy and old,
angular, orange, and brown.
I'm afraid that I cannot
feel my eyes, though
they never tingled
before now, either.
I am sleepy, and I want to
recline in a white room
with an air conditioner
on the window.

Another sleepy poem.  I was sitting on top of my desk and almost fell asleep, which I realized would probably have resulted in my toppling headfirst off of the desk, so I got down....

For some reason or another, the sound of the school's air conditioning makes me think of a happy hospital.  (Shrugs)