my doctor closes his eyes when he
sees me, taking my blood pressure
and listening to the various ways
that i’ve let myself down again.
there is a boy who lives in my dreams
wishing that i’d get well, he blesses the
sneezes and forgets to care sometimes,
most times. we’d do nothing at all but
scribble our thoughts across a discarded
napkin or envelope, brushed with dust
and what once was, history.
there is a howling in my wrists, wheezing
when i smile, brimming with hatred and
the desire to watch me drown.
i avoid corners and shadows, because they
might engulf me, they might strangle the
thoughts of stability and the smiles that caress
in the sun, in the daylight.
goodnight sleepyhead, i’ll wake you when it’s