My sleep, when it happens, is a little bit see-through. A gossamer sheet that falls over my face, ghosts me from the world, for an hour, or two, sometimes four. I tell it bedtime stories about jail, how it –(some days)– stretched to nine hours long inside. It sounds like a fable, for who has ever heard of a sleep so grown? It sounds like … Continue reading sheep dreams
Last night wasn’t the first night of un-sleep, but it was the first night I took medicine for it. Medicine that decided I needed awakeness more than it needed to do its job. I got out bed to write instead, but it was too cold, too dark. Earlier in the day, it had been too hot, too bright. Sometimes my chair is too short. Sometimes … Continue reading not out of the woods
It’s the itching. It usually starts like a flutter. I think I might have imagined it. I brush it away like a stray piece of hair may be dangling off my arm. Sometimes it is exactly that. Sometimes, I feel the bump, more of a welt, and I know my skin will start puckering soon. The bumps will multiply. They’ll press under my eyes and … Continue reading the rest of roses
It’s hard to say when the day starts if you never sleep through a night. A day can start at 2pm. A day can start at 8pm. Good morning. No matter what the sun is doing. It’s hard to say when a life starts once you’ve climbed out of the rubble of your past life, still breathing. Good luck. Even if you did watch your … Continue reading good morning
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