That dreadful pumping organ
slides into her stomach:
it’s going to be a long night.
Still, she rolls over and wants sleep,
her shoulders are heavy,
and the nerves on the back
of her neck are tied together.
It’s not meant to be.
When her eyelids find each other
she feels the spiraling black
suck her in.
There’s no pulling away
(she understands from experience),
her brain will be captured eventually.
She curls up and tries to leave,
as the broken mantra repeats:
this madness is coming for you.
Retreat into your dreams,
and suppress your triggers,
but this will go better for you
if you stop your breath and embrace the fall.
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