7am scrabz

I told John: (outside, hours ago now)
That if you make a mark, everyone can see it.
Make an impact, though,
and it blends right in.

I then proceeded to stay up all night. Once I
had taken my fill,
eyes weary and head like a drum
in the (a) premature stage(s) of repair

I took to my glass of water in a hurry
and swallowed Antarctica.

Everything looks brighter now,
under the strange wheel of sleep deprivation.
Dead Bugs wait for my slumbered ears, ha!

I went on a trip;
for some days I was gone.
It hurt to be there, to be where I was at.
It hurt to rip myself away from
soft skin, crippled conversation
and sincere tears wiped with dirty rags.
When I returned:
Home was lonely and the floor boards
needed to be unstuck.
They cracked like joints
under the heavy weight of my heart.
in my absence, the
Alarm clock in my bedroom
must have cried each day.
It screamed for me yet I was not present
to push the right buttons
that would put it at peace.
After hours of crying, I think,
alarm clocks probably give up.

in some short, sweet moments from now
I will be in comfy sleep.
I've always like the word comfy.
(Michael once asked me if I was comfy
When we had sleepovers years ago,
those years long past now...
I remember sleeping under his desk,
Saying, "Yes, and I like that word.")
"Always" is just what you make of it.