Deprivation

When I blow out my candle,

all it takes is a small puff of air,

the cover smothering any scent,

any smoke that may have followed.

I turn over, nuzzle into the covers,

and sleep it off.

Sleep it off.

Sleep

it

off.

You know, that’s funny, that’s exactly

what I’m told to do any time anything

negative happens in my life.

As if closing my eyes,

drowning in the dark silence

could ever help turn off my rattling brain.

This brain rattles like a warning snake,

when is when the next time I’ll be

awaken to travesty entering my room,

crawling onto my bed, inserting itself

to nestle underneath my skin.

I’m no stranger to the sleepless nights.

The ones so riddled with anxiety that

I’d prefer the nightmares of boogeyman,

than the fear of one breaking in again.