i don’t sleep
like a baby
no
i sleep
like a haunted house
the restless sleep
of spirits wandering
of creaking doors
of chains rattling
long through the night

i wake
exhausted
excited
aroused
engorged
yet so tearfully alone
in a queen sized bed
made for a fool
tangled up in sheets
like a hangman’s noose
or false lovers words

i whisper my love
like a breeze
through a cemetery
a scent of decay
rippling through plastic flowers
from a heart
that cannot be bothered
to visit
often enough

maybe
that’s why i sleep
like a thunderstorm
over the ocean
white tipped waves
pummeling
the placid surface
just under
whipping it into foam
to cast ill tidings
on any beach
it confronts