by Ashley Beth
Dark emotions in corners of mind.
Come up when you’re in a fragile state.
A state betwixt awake and asleep.
A softened barrier between real and dream.
“No, don’t go in there. No. Don’t go inside that thought.”
It will stick to you like stink from a skunk.
‘Can’t sleep’ happens in bouting attacks.
Weird dreams happen when you lie on your back.
“Doooooon’t go in there. Don’t wake up. Don’t feel the hangover.”
Just keep the Light and Sound out and go back to a floating escape.
It’s like trying to swim in two feet of water.
It’s like trying to run but your legs are asleep
and full of sand so you have to stand there
and watch the dark tidal wave come closer,
and closer, looming over you and then coming crashing down.
It’s not the water that bothers me.
It’s the white noise of foam.
And the way it slams your head on the sand.
The disorienting dizziness of destructive depth.
Why do dreams and sleep always try to speak?
Why do they always dream of me the same day?
Why do they always talk to me the same way?