Itch

Wake up,

Bright light, stale breath, why is that candle still lit?

Sleep's grip not yet done with you,

Turn over, bend knee, unbend knee, turn back  - itch.

Not the kind of itch where you drag your sleep heavy hands to rake at your skin,

Three swipes of nails across flesh, before life leaves your arm.

No this is an addict's itch,

More, how could I have forgotten this feeling?

The reason you’ve woken,

How could I have fallen asleep?

Your stash at an end,

I just need it to last a little longer.

But strength isn’t a virtue,

I’ll get more. It might not be as good but it will do.

So you wake yourself with a high,

Colors everywhere, new faces, old faces, sea monsters, and fae gatherings.

A high achieved with pen and paper,

Thirty pages left, that’s not even enough for the hour.

It’s a daze,

Naval battles, evil fae queen’s, love’s last stand.

Mystery’s grip not yet done with you,

Will she live? Yearning to know more.

Not the kind of yearning that, if left untreated, will fade in time,

I’ll get chocolate tomorrow.

No this is an addict’s yearning,

The breathe after almost drowning.

The reason you’ve woken,

Will she tell them? Which one of them will die?

You’re stash at an end

The next book comes out next month.

But strength isn’t a virtue,

There are other books out there, but not as fulfilling as this one.

So you wake yourself with a high,

Acknowledgments.

A high achieved with pen and paper,

Wake up!

 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741