Standstill

Something left over.

A deep sleep,

eyes barred by skin.

Muscles too weak to

lift lead-ridden lids, leaves 

only fingertips to see,

trace bones from memory searching

for the ties holding this mind, 

makes it difficult for

this pulse to stay it's beat.

This struggle, 

A primal fear lays in me.

gnaw through feet,

this cannibalistic conscious

tears me apart in my dreams

but won't let me awake.