Here

I don’t call, I don’t write

I walk away when things don’t

I sleep and I sleep

and when I’m awake, I

am still not conscious. 

I linger on indecisions

and feed on imagined lies. 

I chip away the whole to

rouse the consuming black 

and day by day,

I lose.

For each and every,

the beating releases,

recaptures

and reignites 

just enough to taunt

only a little. 

As I

fall back asleep

into

the arresting bed 

of black.