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“I can’t sleep”
reads a text message
autocorrecting “without you” for blank space in my bed
suggesting insomnia without sexual subtext is crazy

But come on Siri, sometimes these eyes don’t close
And these bones ache too tiredly to lie calmly next to you
And don’t think I don’t know
You’re drowning in this quicksand too

It’s up to our necks now
I’m sucking the air from your lungs as you follow me into the bog
And don’t think I don’t know
You’ve got hands and not vines.
Don’t think I don’t know
I can’t keep using you for the climb
Don’t think I don’t know
I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine it’s just

I can’t sleep beats my jackrabbit heart
Bleeding into my sidewinder brain
Because you are insane you should go
And don’t think I don’t know you are crazy to stay
We are crazy

I can’t sleep
When it’s dark outside
And inside’s no better
Inside’s not buttercups
Inside I’ve got guts and for similes I’m using nooses not jumpropes
The hopes abandoning my loves quick, too
Like how I am raced into bed by the moon
And this is because there is no metaphor for depression

And don’t think I don’t know
You’d like to call it something else.
I guess that’s why they call it the blues.


from the family arsonist, released February 10, 2015
"Oceanidum Mons " by The Fucked Up Beat
Available on the Free Music Archive
Under CC BY license



all rights reserved


Beth May Phoenix, Arizona

I'm a writer/actor living in Phoenix, AZ with an additional poetry habit...Sorry that my voice creaks.

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