There's no reason why
I'm too tired to get up
too excited to go to sleep
too numb to know when I'm cold and
too frightened to make a sound.
No longer does sensation hold weight
nor thought hold value,
only empty promises I wish to fill
to keep me moving forward.
The ice in the yard is soiled
by dog tracks and
by marks from my feet
sprinting laps at three am to make me
just sleepy enough to collapse
(and though I want to lie down in the ice and stay there I do not).
Of course I'd like to say something,
to have someone know in case
by morning I am gone,
but as soon as I find the words the subject's passed,
shoved in a corner where
no one likes to look.
The look of the words spelled out
on the screen make me want to take them back,
and I rush to do so before realizing
*it's only in my head.