Rain is
Falling
Outside, a
Downpour for
Three days
And three
Nights.
In the
Dark,
It whispers
To me, secrets
Like an old
Friend.
Cool silver
Over my wrists,
My neck;
Falling.
Shiver of
Antici-
Pation tremble
In my fingers.
Electricity
Hums,
Thunder
Rumbles and
Crashes overhead.
This is where
I am
Home.

consciousness
     breaking to
          light through blinds

stained carpet
     starched sheets
          euphony in

a name
     first and last
          all the same

freckled shoulders
     dimpled cheek
          mirrored

***** laundry
     ***** dishes
          in the middle

making love
     little pieces
          not broken

scotch tape
     Christmas fights
          and snow flurries

cigarettes smoke
     skin on my back
          sweet scalding

stolen kiss
     only borrowed
          no need to

return
     the beginning
          chance and fate

balanced.

I am not in love with you.

But I am gravely
(And rather ungainly)
In like with you.

You told me you were
Smitten with me.
Of all things, smitten.
I had never been so flattered.

You played me a song:
"Baby, baby, baby,
Won't you be my girl?"
The day I became yours,
And you, mine.

You played me a song:
"Dream a little
Dream of me,"
And I knew my sleep
Would be haunted.

You played me a song:
"There is nothing for me
But to love you
And the way you look tonight,"
And I knew
I needed help.

I wake in the middle of the night
In another body.
A mirror image---
Dulled eyes,
Lopsided mouth,
Red-blotched skin;
All the same,
But not of me.
I am awake
In a dream.
Nothing moves.
Nothing makes a sound
(Except for the persistent drip
Of the broken faucet,
Skipping broken records,
And all the broken hearts
The king's men couldn't
Put back together).

I wake in the middle of the night
In a different room.
You're still snoring loudly
Beside me like a
Bear in winter, but
I don't feel your scratchy fur
Or the scrape of your claws.
Beige walls around the room:
Beige beige beige beige beige
"I hate beige,"
And suddenly they drop away.
I'm freezing in August,
Sweating in January.
The clocks on the wall
All watch me.

I wake in the middle of the night
In another lifetime.
Everything the same,
But my skin is tarnished silver,
My hands feel only cold.
Eleanor Scissorhands,
I ruin what I touch,
So you learn to stay away.
There's no comfort in
Tensile steel
And my life is made of it
When I wake in the middle of the night.

I feel it
Now
A thousand
Pairs
Of eyes
Staring
I do not
See
Them,
I do not
Touch
Them, but
I put
My head
Down
The floor
Falls away
I hear
Them
Whisper
My name
Calling
Bells
Ringing
Buildings
Crashing
A thousand
Pairs
Of eyes
Watching
As
I
Fall.

Sometimes
My life is quiet.

Most days,
It's pills and traffic,

School and parents,
Work and sleep.

But sometimes
I press pause,

Wander around
The streets of my city,

Marveling
At the motionless passerby,

And drink in
The silence.

I stop
And be still. Just

Still, at least
For a few moments.

I always find you
There, in paused times.

I think that
Is what makes

The live-action
So tolerable.

Tick tick tick
Pour the pills from the bottle.
Hold twenty
And a tangible pause.
Take two.
Past the teeth,
Over the gums,
Look out bloodstream,
Here it comes:
The numbness,
The pain.
The lights go off upstairs
And it's back to business.

Tires screech
Children screech
My thoughts screech,
So I reach inside
Turn off the volume.
Laugh a little
At the zoo monkeys
Mouths agape
Making no sound.
Then head down,
Shuffle on.

One at dawn
Another at dusk.
Tick tick tick
Pour the pills
Empty bottle
Hold twenty
Take two
While God laughs
And I drag myself back
To sleep.