This going to bed time tires me.
I think about you,
And I sigh-
for a lot of reasons.
And I miss you with every aching nerve in my body and in my brain and in my eyes.
I do.
I cant help it,
Im sorry.
And this nighttime is so hard, because of the
Blurry uncertainty of the fog behind my eyelids; it blinds me and deafens me,
and when I take aloneness’ hand and face my Thoughts every night,
The very object of my avoidance and deprecance and isolation,
I quake and shiver like a cornered animal. Like a runaway who has finally been caught.
Because I know this routine.
Inside and outside and everyside, and I hate it, with
every aching nerve in my body and in my brain and in my eyes.
And I miss you.
I do,
I do,
I do.