15 January 2020

eyes open and it's those past 

midnight-hues tonight 

and no moon.

quiet except for January wind 

so i chalk this one up to a 

dream i can't remember, 

a neighbor's porch light,

the insomniac arsenal.

i lie there feeling that ice-empty 

and it's wordless this time: 

they're infinite, those 

cold water chasms, 

and i am not brave 

in any way that matters.

i thought there was strength in the 

smallness but maybe there's suffering 

too and i can't tell the difference anymore, 

i don't think -- they both look the same in the dark.

it's "sleep, kid" and i know it 

but it goes too deep sometimes

honest and i don't know how to stop,

or what i should do when 

things hurt in ways 

i can't say.

i'm trying to.