Woke Up Again

I woke up dizzy again
Feeling as if I drank a bottle of wine before I went to sleep
Maybe I did.
I dreamt of screams in the bathroom after a bad day
And mom wouldn’t help, she just stood there and stared
As I opened the tap and covered my feet
So deep in blood, you couldn’t see them.
My dad and my brother came rushing in,
Held my arms, glued me back together
And she went downstairs.
Her face was as blank as any other time,
Nothing will ever get her attention.
They put me to bed and between my tears and my closed eyes,
I heard her walk in and say “I’m sorry, but you have to be strong.”

I woke up numb again
Like I wasn’t really there, like it wasn’t my body
It made me ache to think of you
Because I know I dreamt of you,
Even if I couldn’t remember it well.
There was nothing else I could dream of
Except your troubled soul and your worried eyes
Saying “I don’t know what to do with you anymore”
Walking away and falling in her arms
As I stood there and watched,
Waiting for you to come back.

I woke up angry again
It’s the second week in a row
I got up in a hurry, grabbed my cigarettes and my pain
Mixed them into a hurtful conclusion
Of loneliness and distress and violence.
I dropped the ashtray twice before it fell into pieces,
And thought it looked just like me.
It didn’t help wondering if I’d rather fix it
Or put it away —
It seemed liked the same thing to me.
So I picked up my notes and gathered my feelings
With a pen in one hand and a closed fist in the other
And hoped the ink would help me rest
Writing “Maybe some people were meant to live,
Just to watch others do it”

I fell asleep on the train again
Found it was the only place I could sleep in.
With all the noise and the motion and the balance
Of a hundred people making something move.
But I woke up exhausted,
I couldn’t keep my eyes from shutting.
Maybe I was dreaming, but
I was glad I didn’t have to make up any words
Because no one would really listen to them anyway.
They just stood there with their destinations and their dreams
And their boring conversations about everyday things
They all looked so empty and ugly,
Probably just like me.
But as I ceased to exist in that moment,
I thought “If you were here, I wouldn’t have to look at anyone else.”

So I guess none of these were dreams,
Just fractions of my fragmented memories
Of places and people and thoughts
That are craved in me in eternal torment
Making me as dull as anyone else.

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