Christmas Insomnia

Living on bright pink Benadryls and melatonin
to try to make half dreams
seem more real to try to get through the lonely
distant too hot too cold nights glowing
with those fake plastic plug-in candles
with bulbs that get too hot
for Christmas. Keep throwing
the covers back
to stop the sweat keep pulling them over
legs to warm naked toes. No amount of blankets
will warm hearts not even
an amount comparable to the Princess and the Pea.
Afraid to close eyes for what
demons hide behind eyelids. Afraid
to open lips
to pray or cry out
for what evil sounds await on sour
tongues. Dreams that are not dreams
at all but terrible memories
from the VHS tapes of last week
the last too quick touch
and dreams that are not dreams
at all but cringeworthy situations
that play out
in the deepest depths of minds.
Where has the World put it’s
ancient Choose Your Own Adventure books
from the Long Beach Island
library on the boulevard
with crinkled pages
torn covers
and bookmarked endings: hearts don’t hurt
between pages.

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