nightmares

It's been a while since I had a dream I could remember. I must have had a bad one, because my sister woke me up last night to see if I was ok. I was calling out and crying, so much that she was scared. And when she woke me up, I couldn't remember why.

I fell back asleep had a series of dreams where I was responsible for things, children, possessions, that didn't actually belong to me, but that I cared about, That were... not important, important is the wrong word...precious? Precious, maybe.

A friend's baby from a bad birth. She was bleeding out and handed the baby to me as they wheeled her away to surgery. How could I take care of this? How could I keep it safe until she came back? I cradled it, called for help, regretted calling for help... a doctor from a competing hospital came, tried to take her away, saying he had to, he was the only one who could fix the baby's heart. I couldn't move as he left with her. Numb and panicking. Helpless. Distraught. Then her family finally showed up, and I couldn't speak to them because they only spoke Spanish. This huge barrier to understanding and communication as I struggled to tell them my friend was in surgery, there was a lot of blood, it was bad. Desperate. I watched their faces, as I tried to tell them. The confusion, horror, desperation. They wanted to know where the baby was. A doctor, I wept, a doctor from another hospital took her. I couldn't stop him. I just needed my friend and the baby back. I needed to fix it. I needed everyone to be happy. I needed to put it all back together again.

I panicked and wandered blindly out into the street, which was a church parking lot. I climbed tall steel rafters, in tow: a small Sunday school class of 5 young boys. Not mine, but, again...precious...and I was responsible for them. We were supposed to go to a certain room and wait for something. It was like herding cats. We were up like twelve stories. The room was unfinished, a wall missing on the side. Steel girders and beams criss-crossed the walls, the floor. I was trying to stay back from the open ledge, paralyzed by my fear of heights. The of the boys kept playing by it. One in particular kept hanging into a framing beam that went from the floor to the ceiling, and was spinning around it, out over the giant open drop. I was holding the other boys close to me. Pleading for him to stop and come back and wait. Trying to tell him how scared I was that he would fall, that we would all fall. That something horrible would happen. He swung around again, laughing. I lunged for him, but his hand slipped and he was falling. I had failed

I was in someone's basement. Well, not really a basement. The ground floor of a split level house. I went to open the door to a room, and realized I was in heels. But not just... normal... heels. Silver fetish heels. There were people upstairs who weren't supposed to know I was there. One hand was on the doorknob. The other was closed around something. I looked down at what it was. A silver riding crop. I was in black lingerie. I opened the door. The room was dark. A giant bed was in the middle of the room, but it was covered in all sorts of things that don't go on a bed, stacks of books and a trunk. A chest of drawers. Boxes of puzzles and games. Sealed boxes. I heard a low laugh and a hand grabbed at me in the dark. Slapped me. I turned and bit at the arm. There was no face, it was too dark, despite being able to see the things on the bed. I only saw parts of his body. Arms that pulled, clung, wandered, locked tight. I whipped him. He laughed, whimpered, enjoyed it, cried for more. I was weeping. I felt sick. But he wanted it and he mattered too much to say no. I was chased from the room by someone else, someone who was really going to hurt him. I was clawing at them, kicking, screaming to get back, to get in the way of him and the hurt. I was thrown to the ground, my ankles twisting in those stupid shoes. The door slammed in my face. I could hear him whimpering, pleading with whoever was behind the door now to stop. I banged my head against it. Pounded. Screamed. I had to stop what was happening. My legs wouldn't work. I was screaming. He started screaming. I was frantic and immeasurably upset, guilty, regret momentarily drowned out by panic and terror at what was happening behind the door.

I woke up.

too red

sometimes he takes me
too far back
& i'm forced to
wade through regret
shame silence guilt
stupidity
silly me

he'll resurface
just long enough
to pull me back in
& i drown in all my
obligations, all
my inanities &
real things i have
& haven't
done

why do i revisit
this labyrinth & think
i can ever find myself
or find the him i
left behind & still
look for on long nights

god damn internet
instant access to
insecurity &
idiotsyncracies

i've crawled into
a sparklehorsehole
to write this because
it is noise & comfort
& a self he doesn't
make me hate

for all the nothings
i have been
or am being

it was more
space than i
could handle
this time, the tide
is too far out

global warming
or some shit
made it so it
can't come back to
that line
that life

i got
old somewhere
along the way
been thinking
in lines too straight
for too long

& i don't have
time to be anything
besides what
everyone but he
needs me to be

he only ever
comes back to
open all the wounds
of what i've not done
& leaves too soon
leaves me
bleeding lonely
like it's actually
lifeblood these days

i had just circled
back to a little poetry
& felt pleased
with myself

now i'm only
undone, riled

naked with the ends
of what once was
a sweater
in my hand

trying to sew
my mouth shut
so i stop saying
so much to him
so much except
the everything i
could've would've should've
said

if only i'dn'ta...

up a rabbit hole
reading under a tree
alice grew up
got a job
got debt &
pretty sure they
paved over the way
back to wonderland

no rowed back
to someday isle

the nots in my stomach
keep saying so

to be born

well i had to start a war
'cause my eyes were raw
& my fingers sore
from clutching dirt 
& gaping at the prairie

hd radio bullshit

i want to be
so sincere
& still not
myself here

to set up
some actual
parenthesis
around him

a space to
contain a
reality that
won't spill-
over into
all the little
lives he hides
from in his
head

& i want to
create it be-
cause it's the
same kind of
thing i've been
looking for
forever, so
why not

make one
for someone
else in the
meantime

how can i
tell you to
tell things
to me?

you can
talk to me
for hours about
anything, i don't
mind, i more
than don't mind
i prefer an
outside focus
a long draught
from a deep

well

all the
conversations
i want to have
don't know
i want them

so i sit here
fill my ears
with something
else & scan
the horizon of
all these empty
spaces

waiting
to be full of
reciprocation
& too much
truth

this dent is now a crater

we never get
our lines crossed

they run parallel
in the same
places
in the wrong
times

circle back
turn a rut
into a track

& never tell him
too far away
the want
in all the
having, or how

i retreat to
the comfortable
strangeness of him
if he lets me

my placeholding
subconscious

& now's another
time to lie in my
well-worn
one-man chasm
next to his
on this bedrock
tabletop

close but no
closer
survey the
topography

fingertips trace
strata, find
how often he
wound
words
around
& over me

angry, hurt
longing, sincere
bitter
bittersweet
sweet
words while

i would lie
& talk to myself
with my eyes
closed

it's this blink
& blanch
at what could have
been written
on my skin but
is left in lines
& layers

i press lips to
long ago & all
i taste is old dirt
dry on my tongue

so i believe in
fall but not
autumn anymore

there are motors
in the ground

but all i've
ever done is hold
on to another
thing or sound