I fell asleep on the couch

Again.

My head was crushing my hands

Into crabby claws.

Was I clawing at something, someone?

They were so sore upon waking

From having slept them into a contorted wood-like gnarl.

Not all contortion is painful though….

When I looked at my small wrist

Who even looks at their wrist except on the dark days?

I saw a pulsation

Heard it screaming in my ears

Beneath the silken surface of my skin

Beneath two barely-there freckles, a splotch of pink dye,

Beneath those delicate string-like tendons that I can see and feel under the sheath of me.

Why can’t I hear my own heartbeat

This cacophonously

At any other time than after waking from an accidental nap

On the couch?

There is always this panic tied up in the chords of my voice

And a waking sleepful dream

Still caught in my chest,

On my chest like that creepy demon in that painting…

And the booming of my bloodstream makes me wish

I could accidentally fall back asleep

Just to escape the sound.

~~~

👽❤

~~~

*** The Nightmare (Henry Fuseli, 1791) ***

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