-Sometimes I wake in the darkness of night,
I scoot myself to the edge of the bed,
my feet resting on the wooden frame,
I have to remind myself, I am home.
There’s a loneliness that cries out to me
in the silence of the shadows. I want to cry,
my body cries, but my eyes refuse,
my soul remains dry.
There is at times a shaking, that seizes me,
my body’s movement, a warning.
It is reminiscent of the moments of too much
coffee, caffeine and nicotine.
I can almost make out a solo sax riff
floating through the permeant smoke, that is
still there, even under the cloak of night.
And I force myself to breathe; inhale.
There is nothing left, except the outlines
of everything, sitting quiet, gathering dust.
I close my eyes as if to dream, as if
I could dream, even without sleep.
My brief oblivion stolen, I find
another kind, some call, abandon.
My eyes still closed, my heart still
pulsing.
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