sharing the bed with the monsters that live underneath it

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