Being sober, you turn off the lights and walk
into your bedroom, remove your clothes, and
look down at yourself.
A small nod and you pull back the covers,
throw down the comforter, and slide in.
The day comes up as soon as you close your
eyes.
-the mistakes, every single one is a thorn, puncturing
your frail state of mind.
A soup of garbage whirls, bubbling up old ideas
and lost love. Where are they now? Why would
they leave? How could they have said those
things?
No matter, it's time to sleep, to
let
the day
end.
But it keeps on mounting you like a pig. There
are children being tortured every day and you
wonder where God fits in.
So many starving
restless and abandoned
crying for dead mothers.
Your boss is a dick who has a dick for a boss.
They've seen shit. It's hardened them. If you're
late again, they'll both can your ass.
What about those dreams you used to have?
Where are they now? No one understands.
They can't relate. And you're in bed all alone and
the house moans and it's good to hear something
even if it is just your imagination. But what about
tomorrow, what'll you do then? Will it ever
end?
Tomorrow is another day.
now it's time for
sleep.
You wonder if there's anyone out there going through
the same things. Surely, you can't be the only one . . .
Surely, there's someone out there who understands.
They're not like the people in those stores that only smile
because they're trying to sell you something.
When's the last time you had a friend, someone to
honestly confide in? Years? But they'll just do the same
thing to you that the others did. Better not pay attention
to that now.
Your eyes are closed and for a moment, it feels like you're
about to nod off. Did you turn off the stove after dinner? Is
the porch light on in case someone decides to come over
and see you? What was that sound?
Is the toilet running?
Damn it, you have to get some sleep!
The alarm goes off.
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