Insomnia

3.40AM

I left the door open, so that the cat could come in.

An empty space on the left side of my bed

to be filled with the body of a shedding beggar

and a lack of gratitude.

Not tonight.

I try to fight ghostly shadows with my arms wrapped around a body of air.

Straitjacket- imagination- my narcotics are wearing off.

7AM

Eyes hurt.

Cold yellow light on my skin-

colored walls.

I try to remember the last time I got excited about snow.

A little girl. My mother. My father.

I turn my gaze to the dirty yellow skin wall instead.

My hands are tied- my tongue- my eyes forced open

How did I come to be trapped in the warmth of my bed?

7.30AM

Now, staring at the hearts on my sheets,

I try to remember the first time I cried fucking.

Hearts. On. Sheets.

I roll white flakes between my fingers- fragments of a crumbling body crumbling.

Salt crystals arranged in white silhouettes on my pillow-

following their forms my fingertips trace the shape of a need-

reminiscences of how we only managed to scratch an itch.

The itching itches on- phantom pain.

9.25AM

Naked, I roll over and surrender to my ghosts.

LongWayFromHome