They Stay

I am always asleep

Naps become hibernations

my record is twenty-five hours

my average is thirteen.

Slumber is all I am good at anymore

When I close my eyes I can pretend they aren’t there

But they are

They endlessly watch

jot a note for every gesture

add a scrawl for each step

lock in to my position

my location

my sense of place

I can’t dodge their trail

trust me I’ve tried

but their eyes are still looking

boring into my back

shivers down my spine

I check both ways before I cross the street

but I’m not looking for cars

I’m searching to see if they still study me

They do.

I have tried to close every door in my house

but the one for my bedroom won’t lock

won’t even shut

It used to though

before he chased me up the stairs

and found I had locked myself behind that threshold

I hid under the covers as he shook the house

thud

thud

thud against the hardwood

The door kept shut

saved me

but now she’s too tired

and sits ajar

constantly

so they still see me

Nowhere is safe

Home was safe then it wasn’t

Cars were safe then they weren’t

It was going to stop then it didn’t

I have no place to catch my breath.

Am I still breathing?

Sometimes I hold my hand to my heart to check if it still beats

When I can’t find the pulse in my jugular

I smile for a second

because that must mean I’m a ghost

and you can’t see ghosts

so they can’t see me

But I am not a ghost.

I am alive

Blood pumps through my arteries

oxygen stuffs my lungs

punches my alveoli

Water flows past my voice box

into the pit in my stomach

and sloshes as I run away

My eyes are shut

I keep them that way for a reason

That way I don’t have to see

That way is the only way left

My fingers plug my ears

so I don’t have to hear

I get sick on purpose

so my nose can’t sniff their scent

I am screaming into a pillow

They may see me

but I am forgetting they exist

I will shove them out

if it’s the last thing I do

I’ll shove you all out

so you can watch the nightmare you’ve created