I can't sleep anymore

Piano. Storms. White noise

Nothing works.

I can't fly stars in the skies

Or drag the dark to my bed

Instead I fold my defeat,

Roll it under my bed

While the nocturnal hyenas

Wait to pull my lashes out, one by one

Yet...

their COVID conversations

About the unusual length of their beards continue

Simultaneously covering their car seats, fans, ceilings, yawns and stretches

Yet...

Their rhetorics remain

Painfully poised

Arduously Aligned

With discourses dabbling

On winning the next power lottery.

They taunt, tease and turn

Every strategy to own Forever

Living on...

To dictate, roost, and roll

In garlands of indignities...

While...

My crushed bones appeal

Against my demolition in the junkyard of pain

Remotely negotiating a return to life

While...

I

fly kites

Only to return to a ditch

Etched with a tombstone

Of Torture Tales

While...

I

remain buried alive

wrapped In layers of white

With unexplained, defeated

Ink blotches

Of my womanly surrender...

Go ahead.

Pull the plug.

I don't need my breath anymore.