Hours are swallowed, listless
Weightless waves of soft nothingness
Sleepy hanging bulb, dimming
Images begin to drop, with your lids
Lashes stick together, pressing contact
Like dry leaves to your skin.
And I know, I know you can’t bare waking
The flashy, plangent lives, your own
Raspy shrieks of everyday’s ache
Make you ill.
Your hurt that never shows itself
Is quiet in its dormancy
For a while.
And I’m sorry, I’m so sorry
That this timelessness will end
Like everything else
Like everything else,
The analgesics are fading
As a laugh from years ago.
The humming walls of your sad palette,
Grow deafening.
And your hurt that never shows itself
Makes me ill.