it’s mine.
swaddled in a down embrace
my Outlook
changes
the air, muggy
carries the high-pitched
alerts
of chorus frogs
i need not respond.
a solitary fingertip
illuminated
s
c
r
o
l
l
i
n
g
blue burned eyes
resisting
sabotaging
The Day

Feeling the warmth, feeling the cold
people come, some people go
and my mind is always wondering
how long you are going to stay

Among the sandals and tambourines
the firefly diamonds and
the sudden silence, the big vendetta
and the scene stealing corpse

Night falls, sleep comes, sand
bugs bite my ankles and I still
hope to see your sunburned face when
I open my bonfire encrusted eyes

5 more minutes
I’d mumble
Wake up
Repeating
I’d mumble again
Wake up
Louder, a yell
Wake up
Wake up
A scream
Wake up
5 more minutes
I yell
I scream
An acquiesce
Because what’s 5 minutes
When you have your whole life

Let her sleep
she’d mumble
A sigh of muffled relief
Burrowed in a sweaty pillow
escaping to my dreams again
Where 5 minutes feels like 5 hours, 5 days
5 more minutes
I’d say half asleep
At 5, 6, 7
13
15
Wake up
17
Nobody wakes me up now
I awoke

At 22
I miss you
5 more minutes
I say to no one at all
I want to escape to my dreams again
You only live there
Where you stroke my skin
And nothing is wrong
And 5 minutes feels like a lifetime

Another pointless, quiet fight.
Another message: “Yeah, you’re right”
Another text reading “goodnight”
Typing out “sleep tight”
as my phone screen turns to white.

I don’t turn off the music,
I do start to panic.

Everything reminds me of us,
The way you think I overuse “we” and “us”
turns to one more thing we used to discuss.
The way you tell me not to fuss
taught me minus and minus equals plus.

You never thought I had it right.
But I still hope you sleep tight.

I'll sneak away at night
when the world is fast asleep
as your breath rises and falls, deep and slow
as the stars dance in the sky under their mother the moon
hidden by the light from the street lamps

I'll quietly slip from my warm bed
shocked by the chilling air as I peel back the covers
and I'll tip-toe past your bedroom
and put on my shoes
and leave my tear-stained letter on the kitchen table

you won't even notice as I leave
as I creep open the front door hesitantly
as my feet drag me out to the bus stop
and I wonder if it's too late to turn back

when the bus brings me to my stop
and I walk towards the bridge
my heart won't stop racing
I wonder if this really is my fate
as I near the ledge

I shut my eyes and envision you
still drifting away in the land of dreams
sleeping peacefully in my absence
I get closer to the ledge

you won't even notice I'm gone
your chest will still rise and fall
your dreams will continue to play
the stars will continue to dance under their mother moon
and the street lamps will shine until the morning
and when the morning comes
and the sun rises out of its bed
and the moon and her children leave for the day
and your dreams finally come to an end
please don't miss me

And what’s then? What’s left?
Maybe the faith that the day'll beep,
That day when the sun pushs cheekily
To windows, disturbing sleep.

That day when there’s no sadness,
When everything’s clear and plain!
That day when the soul is married
To happiness, sprayed with rain.

That day when all the trumpets around
Struck the march, bravura and blessed!
That day when I live the whole time
Just live without any dread.

They say I slept like  
I was in a shallow grave,
Still warm, but rigid.
eyes glazed over..

I tried to wake myself up,
But as I looked down,
Chills evaporated through me.

I slept like death, my pillow
A grave stone of dreams.
Tucked in beneath the
Shallow entombment
of slumber.

Yet, upon my resurrection,
I feel like I’d never even
Sewn my eyes shut.
As sunlight seers my retina.

I walk into the light, dead on my feet..

Head resting heavy on the pillow,
so soft that it’s almost hard.
Hot, fast thoughts darting—
an uneasy breath, stuck at an annoying sniff.
Eyelids slowly opening and closing,
a sting of tears brings dew to each eyelash.
Each long breath in, meant to calm,
is met with an irritable exhale.
A long night ahead.
Or morning,
depending on how one looks at it.
Three hours to go until the alarm—
shouldn’t look.
Two hours fifty-nine.
Dull aches shooting through a shin,
foot,
and a heaviness that’s dragging down.
Could get up and make tea.
No.
Just stay here.
Slow, long blinking.
This might be it.
The alarm goes off—
was it one hour twenty-three?
Probably shouldn’t think about it.
Get on with the day.