SPELLS OF A RESTLESS NIGHT.
Monologue in breathless fragments.

I woke—
not morning—
cold sheets cling—
night’s shadow pressing—
lungs tight—
words stuck,
a scream swallowed whole.
Defeated—
like wet leaves rotting—
who’s out there?
casting spells?
whispers scratch my skin—
a chill crawling.
Ah—ah—
my chest —
a weight crushing—
again—
the mirror’s lie—
soft flesh swollen—
ache throbbing deep,
muscles screaming—
should I move?
should I?
doctor’s voice —
a needle’s prick —
please no—
Pant—
gasp—
dry air rasps—
no job—
no hand to hold—
allowed to rest?
but want—
want work—
screen’s glow—
silent keys—
someone — anyone —
Why won’t they?
Need love—
hold me—
hold me—
but love sleep—
alone—
cool sheets brush skin—
ah — ah —
A dog —
warm fur—
heartbeat in the dark—
Wait—
My life—
a garden blooming—
everything—
thank you, God—
once—
less than ten percent—
Why—
not grateful?
Ah—ah—
Can I be more?
More than ache?
Someone—
tell me—
what am I doing wrong?




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