sacrificial sleep

You can read these words,

and feel sorrow touch you,

but you're not here anymore,

and no comfort finds me here.

 

There's a beast stirring,

underneath the calm waters,

of a toxic pool you left long ago.

 

Do you remember him?

 

Sleep is sacrificial,

It dies for thoughts,

which take precedence,

in the harshest of times.

 

My hands won't stop shaking,

there's a broken-down undertone,

to every smile and laugh now.

 

Fragmented thoughts,

crumble together with empathy,

as naked friends lying together,

seeking a warm body,

secretly,

a warm heart.

 

The crumbling solves nothings,

the foundation it creates,

can't support a home,

nor would it want to.

Weakness is

One can only run away,

from their thoughts for,

a certain amount of time,

before they catch up to you.

 

They'll clutch at your heels,

rip at your tender, exposed flesh,

pull their way under your virgin skin,

until they become as much a part of you,

as the constant numb that invades your days.

 

We're told all our lives,

there is a time for strength,

never a time for weakness;

but they're wrong, broken.

 

Weakness exists, and,

humanity is weakness.