• And so tomorrow I'm sleeping with my television on I understand the fear of all that silence all the space above your bed transforms into a darkness that might as well be made of iron, you just feel so closed in and then there's all the inner noise your voice inside your head, saying all the words your mouth couldn't form all the fears from your day you tried to graze over all the echoes, all the shadows, all the sad songs on the radio thoughts that have an extra energy, a special jolt in the way they invade no matter how tired you are, closed eyes are the best you can do restless body, tossing, thrashing sheets and comforters being no comfort at all you need skin, human contact you need it to reassure you you are still awake that there is a distinction between this and the fantasy of dreaming can your reality be a nightmare? or would that imply it's something passing, over in a matter of minutes if he were here i wouldn't be so unsure if i had a whisper in my air, stubble scratching my lips then I'm sure I'd know the difference

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