Into the vast emptiness I go
once again
trying to give my mind
and soul
time to recover from the mess
you have made of them
as you,
you walk away
unharmed
and carry on with life

Careful,cautious,
tip-toe and
dance
around the topic.
Slight of hand,
Subtle motions.
Fuzzy words
with clear motives.

I call myself a Professional Sleeper
Because I was convinced I could sleep through
any type of sadness or any type of confusion.

I was convinced I could sleep after
any argument or any type of disaster.

Yet, for the past two nights I have weapt myself to sleep
as my brain swells against my skull and makes my thoughts feel like cymbols in a marching band

I was convinced I would be able to sleep off even the worst of times
and that would be how I coped

But once you try to sleep when your heart is breaking, and your head is screaming, and your eyes are too sore to shut,

It's impossible
I promise you.

I sit up at night and wonder,

Was it worth it?


Of one thing I'm sure,

It wasn't and I feel like ****.

sometimes it feels like it's not getting cold fast enough
other times i'm terrified of being shut in away from frigid air
god
i hope this year is different
with less days spent entirely in bed
forcing myself to sleep on mascara stained pillows
oh
how belittling it was
wasting away on a beer stained matress
i'm completely transparent to my house mate
you tried not to look at me because he knows it will make him crumble
where did the time ago?
it feels like i've been stuck on a swing set for 365 days without stopping

we take one step forward three steps back
and all the while we are looking for ourselves
not wanting to walk as the living dead
like hearts chained to a desk
like those we **** or want to ****
and we wonder why we are the way we are
wanting more than sometimes seems possible
our desperate yawp that we will not settle
for this living death
you will make your way out of the morass soon enough
and all of this will be a distant memory
a mostly pleasant diversion
from the prison of living