I feel so restless
laying here trying to be restful,
but everything stabs me awake.
The sheets bite at my ankles and I’ve
gotten in a cycle of tossing them off
and whipping them on,
too hot and too cold all at once.
The faintest light beams like sun,
the wind outside racks its nails against my window,
every pin drop from the street booms.
I’ve always been a back sleeper,
but I try to sleep on my side tonight
cause someone said it’s better for you,
or for me, in this case.
Yet the left side doesn’t feel quite right
and the right side feels just as wrong,
and I’m flipping back and forth like a
pendulum in my own bed.
I settle on my stomach
which squishes my lungs, but might
steal me to darkness faster.
Every tiniest thought goes whizzing by.
I think I can actually see the electricity
in my brain sizzling down
wires in a fleshy grid
that keeps me from the morning.
I guess I’m restless
because I’m so afraid of another tomorrow,
that I’d spend the longest seconds awake
to keep me far away from it.