12/14/17 3:47AM
what keeps you up at night?
Is it perfect angles, days where
you thought you could see it all
is it the quiet slithering of snakes
under your skin,
pumping blood for the next fight
maybe it’s the last time you looked someone in the eyes
with pure, simple hatred
or love
Is it the image of falling down a well, hearing your femur snap and remembering
the dog you kicked on your way down
It could be the ceiling
the swirling stucco tracing your eyes back deeper into your
skull until there’s nothing left but holes
is it the smell of boozy breath behind you
eyes piercing into your back from the void
Or is it the thought of the last person you ever told
your shitstain secrets to
Maybe it’s what they did with them
What keeps me up at night is the scraping
The pulling of sustenance from crusty edges so that
I may feel full from nothing
The plow dropping viciously into asphalt
to make way for civil servants
It’s scraping every little bit I can out of the twilight,
only to end up looking dejectedly at the flower
dying outside of your hair
What could possibly keep you up at night
If not the hangman’s nook in your heart ready to drop
the other shoe
I hope it’s an ice skate
Sharp enough to cleave my head off