Broken (nights)

Some nights I feel like I’m smoking a stick of dynamite,

Knocking back mouthfuls of cyanide,

My thoughts walk a tightrope unsteady

My words are suicide bombers, their feet heavy

My memories are tiny needles in the pincushion of my mind

I hear the ghosts of dead desires shuffling behind

My heart throbs like an exploding minefield

Every breath is a labor of Hercules

I see an image of you, me, of us

A fading picture, beginning to rust

Consciousness; a bear-trap waiting to snap

Sanity; a dry autumn leaf that might crack

I look at tomorrow; a gaping, black hole

I close my eyes, watch fractured dreams unfold

I wonder if it’s okay to just freeze

Stop, desist, indefinitely cease

Then I open my eyes; see a tiny sliver of light creep in

Beyond the curtains, there’s a new everyday about to begin

Hope seeps in with the light; tenacious, ready for a fight

And I see it’s okay, though it’s not all right

It’s enough to take on a few more nights