There is a ragged breath that rasps its way out just before sleep beckons
It speaks of trapped thoughts let out like a cat into the night.
I am never exhaling with the full force of my lungs
Not until that moment in the dark where frantic wisps of all the itchy things I’ve done burst forth and dance on my covers.
It’s the shit show and I’m front row.
No clapping here as I cover my eyes with trembling fingers.
All I see are shards of the day
Here now to pierce my soul as they rip through my guts
Their incessant replaying of all the things I would rather forget.
Their beautifully ugly embellishments bringing heat to my cheeks over and over.
Nowhere to go but clamber back behind the curtain of my sleeping eyes
To the tepid waters of my longterm brain
There they shall remain
Each day honing their skills to cut the heart of me right from under my nose
Even in slumbering repose.