The Wooden Girl

I feel wooden from lack of sleep. My legs two heavy trunks kicking out from under me. My arms are awkward and my fingers clumsy as they reach for things once, twice, three times closing round objects and carelessly letting them slide from their grip. I don’t know why I can’t sleep. I can feel it winding its way round me like a vine, slowly working its way up through my muscles but never quite managing to finish me off. So I’m sat here with my head full of sawdust and my eyes gummed up with sap. I brush leaves of hair out of my eyes and prop myself up on my desk. My arms serving as two splints for my tired frame.