here i am
writing another shitty poem
instead of sleeping
and who could blame me
when all the bathrooms in my dreams
are irregular mazes
when the pounding at the door
are the undead children i’ve lost
when there’s never the right path
when even the sex is terrifying.
the best dream
was the sound of
your breath
your heartbeat
in my ear
as i
sweat drenched
panicked
held you close
and cried
