5.24.2023 - Wrong Side of Dawn
/5.24.2023
Wrong Side of Dawn
Facing down the wrong side of dawn again,
Wrong side? My side.
The part of night when the sky,
Is growing visible over the screen of trees.
Inducted anxiety,
Because insomnia never arrives alone.
Dragging the low-grade fever,
Of abraded nerves along.
Inverse of an emotional support animal,
Or a comfort object,
Uncomfort object,
Wrapped around me like piano wire.
Insomnia crawls from my brain,
Electric spider calling from the charger,
Blue light is bad for sleep.
I'm telling you,
The things on the screen are worse.
Anxiety slithers around my throat,
I miss free breath and oxygen.
Miss the rest.
What even is a "full night's sleep?"
Day is stalking.
Implacable failure,
Beating me down,
As I lie, restless.
My feet feel twitchy and they're ice,
Chipping away at the covers.
I don't want to put the satin,
Sleepmask over my eyes,
To hide me from the dawn.
Elastic vise can give me headaches.
Then I'll be awake from pain.
Night is marvelous.
I dwell in peace.
Free of the requirements.
The demands I act,
Speak,
Try,
Smile,
Chat,
Exist,
As a person.
When all else sleep,
Like fearless angels,
Blank of conscience and dreaming,
I can just be.
No mask to speak through,
My voice muffled and far away,
Echoes inside my throat,
Like distant water.
I am parched as the Gobi,
Sahara storms of swirling,
Ripping my hours away,
Running out of the dune sand.
And the sky is too bright.
I need to wake in four hours.
Three hours.
Anxiety phones a friend,
Flirts with panic.
Sure, let's have a slumber party.
Pillow fights with exhaustion.
Smores with defeat.
Truth or dare with darkness.
Truth,
It's always a lie.
Light as a feather,
Beaten with a board.
Two hours.
When the alarm attacks,
I will be so tired.
Can barely open these eyes,
The ones that refuse to spare me.
To shut in the night,
When there is still time for sleep.
With the eyes stitched on,
I try to tell my eye mask,
Be my friend,
Let's get along today.
But as the satin presses against hot eyes,
I feel the smoothness.
Feel the pressure of frustrated tears,
Leaking on the inside.
The satin is damp.
The sun at bay,
But the sky is far.
And all I want,
Is to fall.
To fall.
Fall.
Asleep.
