Scared of sleep, ‘cos tomorrow will come faster
That it will arrive too fast for me to prevent it from failing.
Scared it will be here and just like today, I will feel like a failure
A train wreck careening so fast, I need to jump.
But I can’t cos I’m sitting on my bed
It’s an ordinary day and I’m wearing my plain shoes.
Besides, what bridge could I even choose?
Scared of sleep cos when tomorrow comes
What if I can’t make the screeching stop or change the ending?
Can my mind handle failure? Yet again?
What if the wreck finally catches up with me?
The veins of anxiety break their record on each ascent.
I’m scared they will finally succeed at closing my throat
This time. Maybe this time.
Prior I wondered how mental anguish really felt
Arrived at “MAKE IT STOP!” in terrifyingly clear flashes.
It’s like my edges in the frame are curling up in the heat.
I can feel the strands start to sizzle and the paper bubble and crack.
Usually I’m quick to frantically extinguish it, while exuding calm
To fight it and settle back into ‘picture perfect’ for others
But it’s getting harder to hold my edges down
Seems knowing is worse than wondering. Like scalding your eyes.
I thought I was family but my peace helps reconcile their conscience.
“Well she is not complaining so it must be fine”
But complain, and they police HOW I must complain. “Only with love” they said.
But how do you say “Stop trying to f***ing kill me!” For the billionth time?
Rubbery, lifeless, worthless mass for riddling with blows
My body, life and mental health are acceptable costs for their conscience balm.
“They’ll kill you and say you liked it” Nora did warn.
Chained to my desk for fear of poverty
Anxiety’s whip cracks for what remains undone.
I’m drowning, and gambling frantically for relief
So I don’t sleep; praying to stumble on a moment that gives me life;
Enough to get me to/through tomorrow. (Not that I have much of a choice).
Die tomorrow or die today. Those are the only options
Procrastination both your poison and reprieve.
As I wake, I scramble to get a grip
This day cannot fail, the consequence…I’d rather not imagine
Coughed up fumes to push through yet another day
Because it can’t end today. Surely today is not the day?
With every creak, the dread of interruption upsetting my knife edge
I cannot afford to slip up. To rest. To breathe.
Nothing can go wrong. I’m using my last f*** for f***’s sake!
Dread behind my eyelids. I’m too scared to sleep
Depression-anxiety cycle causing lethargy, paralysis and more failure
Unregulated, I leave chaos in my wake
Trauma like red wine, spills and cannot be undone
My soul cannot fathom how to bring itself to the table again in the morn
Just for night to fall and terror descends once more at the prospect of yet another sunrise
I’m scared of sleep because the monster carresses me when I wake.