A vice I welcome
when pillows invite
me down
to tired sheets
that sheathe
like second skin.
I breathe me
in
my fleece flannel world
warmth softens shards of
judging stares.
I tremble
but comfort awaits
in bed that caresses
just enough
no space needed—
another unwanted.
Why the fuck would I
want to be
anywhere else?
Real terrors lie
beyond blankets
hiding behind
dull eyes
and ice-block smiles
they show teeth that chew
the heart
which lived on my sleeve
once upon a time.
Lucid dreams feed
my tired soul
worked to death by
the hate faced
solely for being.
I want to be
Alive. A life
untouched by the outside
thrives
behind my eyes
closed
but open to the freedom
I create in repose.
Where else am I to be?
I live asleep.