hatchet

3am awakenings are becoming routine

Eyes flutter open wide

Thoughts on a spindle 

Twisting into new shapes

What will I make of myself today?

Brewing beverages 

Hot turns to cold

Left to turn tepid 

Forgetful 

Overcome with a sense 

That can’t be named

Words evade me 

But I feel it all the same 

Flickers of candlelight

Wax burning down

Fragrance vanilla 

Silent sounds 

Suffocating brown noise 

I am held 

Straitjacketed 

Imagining a hatchet 

I could take to the moment

Slice through and escape 

Bound

Constrained