justin-b
I am both the affection you seek and the rejection you fear. / I am neither distant nor close. / I redefine your understanding of romance time and time again. / / I am a lover of love and a harbinger of loneliness. / Your ideal fantasy and most painful nightmare. / And for that, I'm sorry.
He grabbed the unused band-aid and lodged it between pages 174 and 175, placing the hard-cover book on the shelf beside his bed. Words and thoughts scattered like a high school marathon in his brain, ideas that yearned to be organized but lacked the proper manners.
Work was 11 hours away, but sleep and routine would reserve atleast 10 of those hours. He and sleep did not agree on much apart from the fact that he needed sleep more than sleep needed him. He was helpless, powerless to the ominous power slumber had on him.
He feared sleep for many reasons; its gluttonous nature with his hours, the lack of respect sleep would have to his schedule, the abusive nature sleep would impose on him on nights where sleep would elude him and on days sleep would lure him. Most importantly, sleep was the gateway by which his nightmares would emerge. His nightmares are devoid of death or pain, but of longing and hope. Vivid images of love, only to awaken alone and lost, even if for just a moment.
These past couple of months have been especially difficult for him. His nightmares no longer use the alarm on his iPhone to pull him back to the emotionless reality, but would actually pull the chair of hypothetical happiness right from under him in the middle of his nightmare. This meant that his nightmares would slowly decline, like an imminent divorce, only to have him awaken to a life where he was already divorced. His chest would cave and his legs would lose motivation to accept the signals the brain attempts to send them.
This is why he hates sleep.
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 1:31 AM UTC
My heart is clear and my plan is simple.
I will work for 40 years
in a job I may like.
Acquaint myself with worldly individuals
who will share stories of
love
fear
hope
and
pain.
I will acquire a disease
for the transgressions of my bygone times.
I will lay in my death bed, grasping for air, and only succeeding with the help of modern technology.
And I will close my eyes
and reminisce of the few hours at your house
that one summer afternoon
when our favorite movies were watched
when our most cherished songs were played
and when my favorite version of you laid your head on my shoulder.
Then
and only then
will I accept my fate.
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 12:43 AM UTC
My bed is warm with the windows open,
the wind gently letting itself in.
The moon dissipates the shadows
and gleams an honest light on the few cars driving.
The air is brisk and every inhale is fresh,
crisp
and satisfying.
But my bed is cold
for its second occupant
is nowhere to be found.
My eyes search
My ears listen
and heart yearns,
as my breath is held
and my head is still.
Waiting for the door to be unlocked.
Waiting for the stairs to be used.
Waiting for the light under the door.
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 7:57 PM UTC