Oregon

Awake at too late o’clock

           knowing it’s too late to call

           but hoping against hope

           that my phone will ask for an answer

Mind like a hurricane

           reeling in mad circles around each eye

           and never on a straight course

Hoping that I know what I think I know

           and knowing I don’t know what I’m doing

           hence concentric thought revs the mental gears

           into high gear, propelling me down halls and into rooms

           without purpose,

Forcing the flywheel that may bid me wheel away through the inky sky

           to kiss the midnight sun

Unable to act, helpless to explain myself

Because four feet is a lightyear to a rock

           that is only lifted up by hands

           which pet puppies and feed babies

           and hold my hands to stop the shaking

           and catch jagged words falling like icicles from lips

           that feel as if they’re dripping death sentences

           when they say

“I was a monster, and still am”

You are my antidote; I don’t have to Hyde my shadows anymore

So I stay awake and light my dreams with hazel fire

           and crush this stupid pillow to my chest, hating its necessary evil

           hating it because

           it’s not

you.