two sixteen

and i’m in my bed
there are earth quakes
oceans tsunamis
between us
while darkness chews
the face of the moon
and i’m in my bed
my skin just falls away
as it does every night
while i’m sleeping
and i’m in my bed
the ceiling fan dries my eyes
i wonder if i’ll go blind
like my mother and aunt
will my spine crumble too?
and i’m in my bed
but tonight is not a night for sleeping
besides it is morning anyway
someone is cooking pasta
in this city right now
because it’s saturday
the friday fast is over
and i’m in my bed
i lie in it all the time, i made it
thorns from the roses
scratched my arms and hands
but i tell you these scratches
are from when
i killed the cat
and you believe me
and i’m in my bed
but this night
even though it is morning
was never meant for sleeping
i’ve let the time drip away
like vein blood
blue and viscous
and i’m in my bed
and it was spelled
in capitals so loud
i reached for earplugs
searched for a pen
found an knife
carved a one word poem in my flesh

and i’m in my bed
and i’m in my bed
and i’m in my bed...