My eyes beg to be laid to rest
And the coffin of my thoughts isn’t enough
I wait for the black silk of night
To fade into the first rays of sunshine
Before sleep takes me from this land

I was never this sick in Reno
When I had bedtime stories read to me in jest
And every moment since there has been a coaxing of lips
My tongue was as ardent as a bundled tress

I never had a dream to complain about
No itchy, wet, sticky unfinished seam
I sew my skin shut after piecing it apart
And sometimes the scars are so light they fade into the milk of my skin

When my brother asks about it I scream
And I tell him to mind his own ******* business
I don’t even know why
I just know anything is better than admitting the depths of my feelings
They barely exist when not meeting my whims

Old page markers and books devoured and forgotten
My childhood could be lengthened to blank stares
And perhaps it would if I could allow my head room
But it’s easier to never go back there