My sleep is bathed in fearful sweat;
each night a pitched battle between
all that I’ve loved and all that I’ve lost.
My dreams betray me.
Treasonous vignettes spinning through the night
like mismatched pieces of a puzzle:
no matter how desperately I press one vision into another,
it will not lock, and the picture remains incoherent.
When morning breaks, I arise once more
into the cool, grey fog of isolation.
Cold and shivering,
uncertain, and empty.
eyes pasted shut with broken sleep
and a mouth of stale cotton.
Each day is spent in a stumbling stupor
of regret and indecision.
Like a bird on broken wings,
my thoughts fall aimlessly before me.
I am tired and disillusioned.
I am conscious but cannot see.
I exist in darkness descending
and tomorrow’s light is a dark and distant star.