Lying awake, a hot forehead nestled against
the scratchy surface of the pillow,
I’m all in knots.
My feet, my hands, my heart
my mind, oh my mind – in pieces.
I curl myself up, making my limbs contort
and wishing myself smaller.
Maybe if I curl up enough I will simply float away
on all my empty thoughts.
Tangles in my stomach that pull
and itch and a wrenching
inside my knuckles,
like I want to punch or kick or just
rip my heart right out of my chest.
I know the feeling creeping up
It’s an old friend, a demon in the dark,
crawling out of my spleen
with it’s sharp little nails
scrabbling up my intestine, my throat.
I’m praying for morning as I curl myself tight,
my eyes on the yellow street light
blinking outside my window.
I’m waiting for the magic moment,
the unprecedented second when they flicker off
and the heroic morning will break through.
Until then I will lie here,
shivering inside my bones.