Why Should I? [REVISED]

Tossing and turning, spine stiffening from
bed to floor, tonight’s special treat in 30˚C
means I do not sleep, thoughts returning
to a song we sang in choir:
‘Weep oh mine eyes’

I don’t feel like weeping though – prefer
sleeping to typing, it makes sense of my
uncomfortable life; I have been resting
often on the floor as backache turns my
bed into an instrument of torture;

I’m bored, long to drown in sweetness of
slumber yet muscular impatience keeps
forcing eyes open – no way I can close
them; it is amazing, has to be something
of wonder in all of this,

My favourite hat is bent and needs fixing;
after useless attempts to sleep my hair
resembles Medusa’s snakes – I feared all
would run away, took out my hat revealing
this tragedy

Nearly died seeing my reflection; tonight
must be a lesson to not eat food of vague
origins; iron constitutions indulge their
taste buds while I virtuously tread the
slippery road of dietary prescriptions –
but who am I kidding,

Since when did such rules keep me from
feasting on great-tasting foods – as long
as I feel better afterwards knowing pain
leaves no scars I eat everything
with relish and pay the price

I prefer the road to inevitable disaster
more than ascetic life nature requires –
nobody else does – so why should I


[ORIGINAL]

Tossing and turning, spine stiffening,
from bed to floor, tonight’s special treat
in this thirty degrees Celsius heat means
I cannot sleep, thoughts returning to a song
we sung in the choir: ‘Weep oh mine eyes’

Though I don’t feel like weeping, I still prefer
sleeping to typing, the only way to make sense
of my uncomfortable life; I have been sleeping
on the floor all too often as backache changes
my bed into an instrument of torture; I’m bored

Longing to sink into sweet slumber, yet I can’t
even close my eyes as restless muscles keep
contracting, forcing eyes open - there has to
be something wonderful in all of this, at least
I discovered my favourite hat has been

bent in the cupboard; needs fixing before we
go camping again - since my hair resembles
Medusa’s snakes after abortive attempts to
fall asleep, I took out my hat, revealing this
tragedy – I feared all would run away

I nearly died myself upon seeing my reflection
in the mirror; let tonight be a final lesson not to
eat food of uncertain origin; let those with iron
constitutions indulge their taste buds while I
virtuously tread the slippery road of

dietary prescriptions – but who am I kidding, since
when did such rules keep me from feasting on great-
tasting foods – as long as I feel better afterwards
knowing pain leaves no scars, I eat everything
with relish and pay the price

Because I prefer enjoying the road to inevitable
disaster than living the ascetic life nature requires –
nobody else does - so why should I?