hello daylight, I see you’ve come to call.

December 17, 2012

straight back into the old sunken body of it all. fuck.

going away was different, but the moment I return, all the old patterns fall back into place and I’m climbing into bed to sleep for an afternoon because there are no nightmares there; all the nightmares are saved up and collected carefully to spread around my waking hours. all darkness lives in the daylight. the darkness is daylight.

I can’t run anywhere. this is the only place I know to run to. I’m trying so hard to find new exits, new escape routes, the frantic Houdini-wriggling of ropes and fates and death-defying feats, trying to find ways to live that won’t drive me back to sleep. I defy death every day but it is the safest place I know, the least terrible place, the least terrifying. death is lovely. sleep is lovely. living is the hard thing, the hard voice with the vegetable peeler and the caustic eyes, the savage hands. living is cancerous. living kills.


back to my room and my life and my job and my computer and the mess of each, the splashy ruin and debris that comes from staggering drunk with despair and bewilderment and stupidity around the prison cell, trying to find an exit. trying to find a home, a safe place, a thing that won’t hurt. trying not to hurt. stupid wounded beast thrashing around and bellowing in the mud, flinging blood and crap everywhere, trying only to be well.

stupid. can’t escape pain. can’t run forever. can’t.

can only hold death like an axe above me, a blessing, a promise. peace for the terminally wounded. put the thing out of its. there’s always one more card to play (but I’m not allowed it). I’m not allowed it, but it’s still there. it’s comfort. there’s always death.

one last escape route.


settle for the easier simulacrum, the version you can return from. sleep. sleep makes things better. makes things go away for a little. magically fixes the world into graspable, comprehendable proportions when you’re not looking. takes away the dark. sleep.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: