Truths

(Again, not written for me. I sort of like it anyway...)

I'm awake.
The snoring is a ruse
to keep you detached,
Broken off.
Did it work?
Did you finger my hair,
Pat my cheek,
And close the door?
I know.
The screaming could have been a nightmare;
Fear, not frustration.
However,
Plausibility isn't fact.
I know.
Tricky bitch, truth is.
And the truth is
I'm awake.
I'm alive.

Suspended

Number dozens of sheep,
Turn the pillow over twice,
Even count to infinite.
And still spend the night
suspended.
Lost in consciousness
and waiting for reprieve.
From who, from what,
Who and what know.
It matters less
when it never comes.
Veins full of rush,
And ears full of deep beat.
Count them out loud to yourself:
One,
         Two,
                  Three.
Bask in the witching hour's sweet bass,
And try not to play traffic lights
with your thoughts.
Red light:
                  bitter everything.
Green light:
                     sugary nothings.
Focus and float,
Achieve the oxymoron
and drift away
into concentration.