One, two, three, A.M.
Hours pass as I bite my lip and stare at nothing-
wishing for daylight
to crawl across the sky on my agony.
It’s hard to calm down
when Turmoil is the one telling me
to take deep breaths
and go to a happy place,
when everything is a quiet implosion
that I don’t understand.
My limbs feel heavy against
the air I can’t seem to breathe-
like 20 pound weights are somehow
attached to my forearms and calves.
I don’t want to see the world,
not for awhile anyway,
but I don’t want to sleep either,
cause I’m afraid I’ll die
if I see you again.