my sanctuary, the dark

Sometimes I think

if I do not sleep,

the morrow will not come

I dig my nails into the hour hand

begging her to stay

here, suspended,

where light cannot reach

I feel a semblance of peace

my sanctuary, the Dark

I dress it how I like

adorned in soft sounds and

heavy sheets, it beckons me

eventually my grip goes slack

and I fall into

the space between