Our bed
One we'll
Share in the future
Where I rest my eyes
And you occasionally do too
Where the stains
Of our passion
Appear
Where our child
Shall be made
The bed they'll
Crawl into after having
A nightmare
The bed we grow older in
Each night trusting it
To be gentle
With our bodies
That are growing frail
Our bed
Where we'll leave this world
Our bed where many
Laughs
And moans
And secrets will be told
Our bed
The one to carry us through
Our journey of life.

Her bed
Isn't as interesting
As it used to be.
Her bed
Isn't as enticing
Anymore
To me.

Her bed
Has become
The bed
Of non-marital
Of non-committal
Separation,
Where an imaginary
But real
Wall
Blocks all intimacy
And separates us.
It has become
Holy
And wholly
Immune
To all and every
Non-existent touch,
Immune
To all and every
imagined intimacy
Contrived
Or concocted love.


Her bed
Has become
Just a place
To half-sleep
Half-dream
To lay my head.
Her bed
Has become
Still
Life-
Less,
Loveless,
And the place of
The love-dead.

Her bed
Makes me want to fly away home
To my own
Home
And bed
Though I'll be just as lonely
And alone
As when
I'm in
Her bed.
Her bed
Makes me want to fly away home
To the only true love
I've ever known;
Fly away, fly away
To Jesus
And up to holy heaven
high above
Far away from
The heart
Innocuous,
The heart
Inoculated
Against love.

I need to get her
Out
Of my heart,
Of my head
I need to
Get myself
Home
And out of
Her bed.

Lie down with me.
We can sleep together.
For I have made this bed.
This bed of pillow and feather.
This castle of comforters with the towers of pillows and the throne of blankets and the crown of bliss.
It is easy to escape the stress and the work of the real world.
This bed is soft and cozy, always warmer than the air surrounding it.
Lie down with me.
Lie down in this bed and turn your life inside out.
I use this bed to leave behind everything I probably need to worry about.
A tickle in my back.
I cover my eyes with the sheets to get away from the fear.
The fear of you moving on and me staying here.
The fear of falling behind.
But this bed is comforting and calming and I don’t mind to fall behind, to fall into bed.
The tickle in my back grows stronger so I flip my pillow over to the cold side and bury my body in the soft, rolling hills of my comforter.
This bed is helpful to me.
You don’t see it yet but that is because you haven’t felt it.
I have slept in the bed of the gods and I know I will never leave.
The stars left their spots in the sky and they’re under the sheets listening to me grieve.
The moon tucked me in and promised never to deceive.
If you just listen you’ll start to believe.
The tickle in my back begins to sharpen.
This bed dulls the pain.
This bed.
This bed.
I love this bed and it loves me.
This bed is soft blues and softer pinks.
This bed is happy yellows and calming lavenders.
I wish you could see the sheets from underneath.
The tickle in my back has become a very sharp pain, and it’s stinging me over and over again.
But this bed will protect me.
Won’t it?
This bed was made for me to sleep in.
I lift my sheets and crawl completely under, happy to be protected and warm.
The stings in my back hurt.
Oh God, they hurt.
I rub at them because even with my body wrapped up completely in the sheets of my bed, they hurt.
My hand comes back ******.
I turn over to look at my bed and I see that what you told me is true.
I see why the only person who didn’t crawl into this bed is you.
I see why your heart has hurt, and my back has hurt, too.
I see what it is now that drove me off the rails.
I see why my ears only hear sobs and wails.
I see why the pain in my life always prevails.
I see that this bed I have made is a bed of nails.
I have fallen from grace, the slowest in the race.
This bed I use is just a brace, a brace to fill the empty space.
This realization I have to face, I have no pain I have embraced.
So I let this pillow case become a hiding place.
But this bed is wrong.
This bed is deceiving.
This bed.
This bed.
The nails grow longer and longer, into my back.
They push themselves into my spine and forward into my heart and lungs and stomach.
This bed has me trapped, unable to move.
The nails have grown through me, binding me to this bed for all eternity.
This bed is pain.
This bed is suffering.
I try to cry out to you for help but I’m buried under the sheets.
What once was comforting is smothering me now.
Wake me up.
What once was welcoming is poisonous now.
Please.
Wake me up.
What once was my bed is now my coffin.
I’m begging you to please wake me up.
This bed.
Oh, this bed.
This bed is evil.

What then is time?
time is a measure
time is what keeps everything from happening at once
time is part of the fundamental structure of the universe
time is not any kind of container
time is neither an event nor a thing,
time flows and can be measured.
time is a judgment
time is the motion of the sun across the sky,
the phases of the moon,
the swing of a pendulum,
and the beat of a heart.
time is radiation emitted by cesium atoms
time is money
time is each day and each human life span
time is the clock
time is a central reference point.
time is faulty
time is the shadow cast
time is an integrated circuit
time is the basis for modern civilization
time has been defined with exact numbers
time is offset
time is a measurement relative to a distant star
time is limited by two instants
time is a wheel repeating between birth and extinction.
time is linear
time is the right moment
time is an old, wise man with a long, gray beard
time is a paradox and an illusion.
Both the future and the past are simultaneously present.
time has no value;
time itself ceased
time does not exist

most people see me as
a happy person because
i laugh easily,
i smile a lot,
i joke a lot.

but deep down
in my heart,
i am fragile,
i can get hurt easily,
but i choose to not
show it to the world.

instead of being sad,
i choose to laugh to cover it.
maybe you can call me
"the queen of the mask"

by this,
you can tell
that most of the time
when I'm laughing,
I'm not really laughing,
i was trying so hard to hide
my sadness.