I never used to have trouble sleeping
Until the beat of my ear drums caught up with me
And I started to recognize the song playing out my windows
Every line was a piece of fruit growing in my heart
And harvesting the blood can wear me out
The night peeks through half open blinds, sheepishly
As if it were to ask me if it can come in and haunt
Reminding me of secrets I never told myself.

I slept through a fire alarm once, my father said
And now they always appear in my dreams
Running to catch the wind, grappling onto symbols and
meaning , as if there were anything to say.
The silence keeps tossing me awake, prodding
Like an electric shock, forcing the experience of
Trembling honesty and regurgitation.