My pillow warm with light dampness
Rejects my head with suddenness,
Last night welcoming in comfort,
At dawn sends me away in hurt.

How shall I start this weary day?
What do faint flickers of dreams say?
Last night I slunk into blackness,
The dawn hurls me into madness.

The frightened embrace of a ghost,
All I have of my lonely host.
Last night I put the light to sleep,
At dawn held by darkness I keep.

Woke to disjointed consciousness,
And left behind my peacefulness,
Last night I plotted my escape.
The dawn of life has taken shape.

Bygones will be Bygones
and their baggage shall beg
to plow again.

Between the gains and confines
of the wrestled soul,
resinous,
behind his silver buttons
and navy knitted nylon
beneath it grey,
cunningly,
breathes the pain
of his flourishing.

i am tired
of waking up
in the middle of the night
at the sound of
my skin tearing itself apart,
i can no longer remove
the stamp of
your lips and hands
off me;
my sides splitting open
so my scars ensconced
deep beneath the surface
can tell the story
of how i fell for you.

i am tired
of staying up
with nothing but
the company of the moon,
awaiting for its eclipse,
blinking away
fragments of what we had —
filled to the brim
with adoration —
although fleeting.

memories of
how you held me —
only distant.

again,
the clock chimed
unforgivingly,
reminding me
of late night drive throughs
around the crevices
of my wreckage of thoughts —
spilled and separated;
full of you,
only you.

I give up the crown I've been wearing
Shifting my chin up high though it's a bit light
Spreading my hands wide just to cover sight

I rather be a tree rather than a Queen tonight
Swaying my wings through the wind quietly
Dancing with the darkness in the pale moonlight

I picture myself swimming across the sea
Got full of my own tears as a company
Serving those eyes a show as you can see

in the cool room
desks, white light
my head slowly nods

the film ends--
within
too hot for tears
outside, the trees
drink deep

pen scratching
on, eyes strain--
yet another blank page

I am weary but I cannot cease my toil
I have wasted enough time on frivolous pursuits
Yet they are my only respite from the world placed upon my shoulders
The dark softness of the night sky beckons me away from my work and wakefulness
But I cannot cease!
I cannot rest, no matter the personal cost! For the consequence of my failing shall be a much higher toll!
My future in turmoil
My family flummoxed
The joy of my life leeched away by ghoulish specters I cannot fight off, only bow before
And I want it all to end--yet I wish to live my dreams and fulfill my hopes!
Woe be to the laborer who serves the demands of those they love!
No rest seems unselfish, no indulgence is guiltless, the self is stripped away to become a slave of the labors of love!
O sleepless rest! O restless sleep!
How I long for the simpler days of childhood!
How I long for the sweet sleep of the innocent, to which I can never return!
Woe be to the weary soul!