seriously, stop —

i think between sips

as i edge into bed.

sighing, i stop

swallowing —

english breakfast,

my security blanket;

still strong after steeping

so many times today/

i set down my yeti

and try to relax

as i twist off

not one/

two/

three\

but four

separate bottles

in front of me —

wreckage —

if i keep up the caffeine,

i’ll never fall asleep,

i muse to myself

as i take each

pill with

tea —

//

i

jolt

awake —

suddenly —

the last hour

so clearly splayed

out in front of me —

to my horror —

not a detail

forgotten,

expertly/

reeling —

shaking —

rae, breathe —

i remind myself

as i aim to slow the

pools running down

both my cheeks —

i’m a monster,

i think —

no,

i truly believe —

i’m the one dreaming

them! i must be! —

petrified —

biting —

i give

in

and cry

hard over the

reels in my head,

unraveling —

weeping —

i cant

see

a way

out of the

hell i’m keeping

locked up; threads

i cant help but follow,

apparently — i’m

so tired; i just

want to

sleep,

i

sob —

seeping —

saturated —

it’s been a week

of the same theme —

i’m exhausted —

terrorized —

i lie in the

dark,

bleeding —

squandered —

seated closer to

myself than i’d like

anyone to be —

i’m scared —

teeming —

alone —

i pose

the

question

as the answer

prods at me: how

close to the surface

are our dreams,

actually?