worries and fears
make for strange bedfellows -
they hold your hand,
as if to soothe you,
and then whisper into your ears
a long list of names
of the people who loathe you.

i try not to be bitter,
i try to escape mental quicksands.
but here's when i don't mind
being called a quitter,
at least i have time,
and my own heart in
my own hands.

when my bedfellows turn
to talk to me in the dead of night,
i turn too - a blind eye,
no indication of despair or delight.
it is better that they rest
in a bed together,
i'd like to run as far away as possible -
the less i know,
the better.

sometimes i make the bed for my bedfellows -
worries and fears are tucked in
quite happily,
and sometimes,
i kiss them goodnight -
with love,
and with the knowledge
that they are asleep,
away from me.

i close my eyes,
and revel in my sleep
knowing that they won't bother me -
i'm not in that deep.
with ease,
i cruise through
the landscape of my mind,
wary of what might face me,
accepting of what i might find.

it is wiser to not challenge
the faces and voices
you hear and see,
you owe it to your dreams,
a half-awake debtor,
it is wiser still,
to happily avoid loss -
the less i know,
the better.

She is home,
four wheels
initials in the back
the boys call her home
she has always been there
the one thing they've always had
the eldest rebuilds her,
calls her baby
the younger falls asleep in her passenger seat
the impala is his home
she has seen the boys at their best
and their worst
And she will be there when it's over.