No sleep is too little;
don’t sleep, and your body is bitter;
it will betray you with shaky hands that won’t work right
and emotions that run like an angry river,
ready to flood the banks
at any provocation.

Two hours are also too few;
two hours of rest, and your body is furious
that you would give it a taste of peace,
then tear it away all too soon,
and as revenge, it will spend all day
trying to make you sleep
then and there.

Four hours, and more are unacceptable;
four hours, lost in the dark, are too great of a risk;
the longer you sleep, the greater the chance
that you’ll remember
the dead.

Three hours, three hours of sleep are perfect,
just enough rest to elate yourself into a hazy hilarity;
you can stumble, peacefully, untroubled through the day
with lights too bright and words too loud
and everything a joke.

The trouble doesn’t begin until you get home,
and your body demands
a nap.