fast fingers send off
flashes of unfinished
fragments to friends
when i can't find
the light

feeling the weight
of each raindrop
that slides down
my window pane
glossed over
with grime,
corrosion and
dry rot have
me uneasy and
i'm sick of
a mouth that
drowns in
it's words

entrapped in my
fortress, i can't
leave these blankets,
but sleep won't
come easy and
once it arrives,
i will dream of
lost keys and
lone gloves, of
ceilings with
no floors, of
sneakers on
wires and children
with bare feet
desperately trying
to reach what
they cannot

i'll wake with a
gasp and wonder
where i've been
hiding and hear
the same sounds
that sent me
this way

of raindrops
on glass pains, of
deep breaths
and whispers, but
i'll never know
what they're
trying to say