FallingAwake2

The Break in Being

Attempting to toss

into coordinates of comfort,

I fail to find a prime position

to support my heavy heart,

and to contain my racing mind.

 

A blanket–

always too stiff– 

clings uncomfortably

to my spent body,

which I reluctantly trust

to wake up once more again.

 

A pillow–

always too flat–

smothers the thickening air

as my lungs try to 

swallow reality once more.

 

I plea to the pause

fragmenting awareness

to rise and resume,

as the void encroaches

and consciousness escapes me.