Lidded eyes, as in the glare of sun.
Bathing in hope, even a nightmare
should be fun.

Just that sleep & I aren't on speaking terms.

.

Hanging in air, gravity a crook.
No concrete bottom in sight, far above the roof.

In a constant free fall—just slippage, no hooks.

.

My kick slices at nothing, the ceiling stares back.
A hammer drops in my skull, a bright thud, a crack.

Heart balloons & sags.
Aches eat me up, spit me out like stale snack.

.

Conversing with silence,
self talking, I speak.
Or rather mumble, one sheep, two sheeps, god, don't stress. Sleep.

&?
The cycle repeats.

.