vervain______

the conversation died. he just couldn't keep his eyes open. i didn't have any toothpicks on hand so i let them fall, in the meanwhile...the clock, it keeps going, and, to be expected, it is now later. so i still have not gotten into bed, which, to my mind, is not really a nice place anyway. it only hints at sleep. i am never allowed much and i guess i care about him more than myself, it's an easy thing to do. so 2:06 and counting until i'm needed, until that cry gets me running to that room, to that bed (could be lined with nails as far as i'm concerned.)
i'm sick of
the ugly colors that
show
in my mind
away from you
seperated
from the reality
if
the cough is loud
enough
it could
you know
so
black and red
the color of her hair
that painting
the
wild horses
kept me up
at night
and the thoughts
of kidnapping
rising water levels
and
a doll
that was going to
come alive
and strip
me clean
with it's
long fingernails.
i never told
a soul
just how it was
i thought
i would die.