The Morning After

Laying here scattered, thoughts tattered
Like a newborn ripped from the womb
Wiggling in this goo of lost comfort
Unable to seize enough air to bellow my angst
Confusion bustles around me
Thoughts run frantic in an
Effort to wipe away fear
Only, it smears instead
This bed does not swaddle my insecurities
No, it illuminates impurities I no longer hide
And I can’t scoff because – I made it
I made it, but I won’t lie in its prickly sheets
I mustn’t, I can’t
But will I…
Eve is already drifting into awakening
Pinching dreams into fruition
Status no longer petitioned, no longer new
This soul doesn’t know how to recant
The scant of its flesh in epic fail
No retake posted, no longer hosted
Culpability envelopes me, tucking me
Tighter into these rags, lower into these throes
Eyes baring secrets I shouldn’t yet know
Essence nude in compromising layers of contemplation
Bartered salvation for sensations I’ve
Already almost forgotten
Those piercings of the night sink in deep
With no space to bleed out in the morn
If I could not save myself in the dark
Who will I be come dawn

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