Fall equally into my bedroom trough the small window. I keep the window open these nights and much of the day as well. I am comforted by the smells and sounds the roll in and over me.I hit the edge of my rail. The end of what I can push through. There was just nothing left in any of my pots. Even though it is afternoon, I am in my bed, my eyes thick and head heavy. But it's all okay, the feelings of the bones shifting against themselves, the back of my pelvis grinding into itself.
***
I wake up and my eyes crack open, they are full of sand, my limbs hang like sacks from my limbs. I swallow my morning cocktail: 10 mg of adderall, 200 mg of ibuprofen, a once daily multivitamin, wash it down with black tea. Showering my body registers the needles of water individually. I am far from keyed up, but I am present.
I call off the whole day and make my bed, climb between the flat layers. I listen to the rain and hear my brain begin to roll. Asleep, again, dreaming of blood and rape and discarded bodies. I have become sensitive to stimulation and now avoid most films about anything but science and space.
Closing the loop. I dislike touch. The smell of people is overwhelming. They're leaking.
**
I push some piles of dirt across the floor and hand my laundry lights to darks, patterns to solids. The collars open to the left now, I have changed.
*
Patterns of rain lull me into the nest of my shell. I am pulled into the form of my bed, warm, full of gratitude that I have a oil filled heater, blankets, a fresh box of tea, an empty home.
This paradise is well earned.
