I wake up with my eyes already open.
The dark is close enough to have a pulse.
Something large has leaned over me,
not touching, just counting my breaths.
I close my eyes.
That seems to please it.
When I wake again, the room has softened.
Corners bend inward.
The air tastes like it has been used before.
I realize I am lying on a tongue,
though nothing has bitten me yet.
The thing holding me is patient,
the way a question is patient.
I sleep. I wake.
Each time, there is less distance
between me and the idea of being kept.
The walls listen.
The ceiling lowers its voice.
I am surrounded by a mouth
that has decided I belong to the sentence.
I wake again.
The dark moves when I think.
Something curious shifts its weight around my ribs,
learning where I resist.
I am not afraid anymore—
fear requires exits.
By the final waking,
morning has already happened without me.
There is no edge to find,
no opening left to misinterpret as hope.
I am held in a place
where night stores what it wants to remember.
The creature does not sleep.
It simply finishes.
Feb 1
Feb 1, 2026 at 11:16 AM UTC
I wake up with my eyes already open.
The dark is close enough to have a pulse.
Something large has leaned over me,
not touching, just counting my breaths.
I close my eyes.
That seems to please it.
When I wake again, the room has softened.
Corners bend inward.
The air tastes like it has been used before.
I realize I am lying on a tongue,
though nothing has bitten me yet.
The thing holding me is patient,
the way a question is patient.
I sleep. I wake.
Each time, there is less distance
between me and the idea of being kept.
The walls listen.
The ceiling lowers its voice.
I am surrounded by a mouth
that has decided I belong to the sentence.
I wake again.
The dark moves when I think.
Something curious shifts its weight around my ribs,
learning where I resist.
I am not afraid anymore—
fear requires exits.
By the final waking,
morning has already happened without me.
There is no edge to find,
no opening left to misinterpret as hope.
I am held in a place
where night stores what it wants to remember.
The creature does not sleep.
It simply finishes.
I went through a very big period of psychosis not that long ago that heavily affected my sleep, so here's a poem I wrote to make sense of what I was feeling.