The Room

Hot air rises,

Cold air sinks,

​

Teeth tend to chatter,

And eyes start to blink.

​

Blink.

​

A darkness flashes,

And shadows play

With each other upon

Walls and

Beds

And

Fans

And laptops.

​

Mosquitoes bite,

My quick hand slaps.

​

I hope I missed.

"It flew away in time, perhaps?"

​

She rubs her hands

And sinks her teeth

Into soft, tender flesh,

Sucking deep,

Biting more,

Bumpy roads

Leading her to shore.

​

Putrid smoke rises,

Grey ash sinks.

​

Into a bottomless pit

Of bad decisions,

Guilt unquenchable.

Sleepless and

Tired

And

Lonely

And bored.

​

My mouth hangs open,

And slowly shuts.

​

I beg my mind for a dream,

A deal with me, it cuts.

Sleep of no dreaming, no more,

But twisted,

Convoluted,

Harrowing,

Visions.

​

Dreams are dreams. You made a deal.

​

The sun rises,

The room sinks.

​

The kitchen, the bed, the

Bathroom, I'm on the brink

Of running, and running, and running

Away

And

Leaving

All

Of it behind.

​

I think I can outrun it, until..

​

Again, I see the darkness rise,

And feel my heart sink.

​

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