what help might have come at the start of the song

was lost

as lullaby

carried on into alibi.


what sleep steals from life

will never be returned.


and there’s nothing a dream will leave alone –

nightmares are

made of

what eyes

overlook /

of what lids will hide /

of those crevices and rifts

where the past hides.


where confessions

lurk under stones

only to be overturned

as restraint drifts away

into exhaustion.


comfort has no claws which can’t be clipped.

there are no memories which won’t

sharpen beaks

on ribs

fighting for the heart.


what bumps rise on skin in waking time

are regret

trying to slip out, away

from the guilts

they claimed.


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