She's been whispering in my ear all evening, warning me of the sunset. This woman named Insomnia kissed my ears all evening because she wanted me to herself in the following hours. She couldn't wait to lay down beside me and traces little broken hearts into my chest. Her words carressed my ears, and her fingers danced along my spinal cord all evening just so she could have me alone for a few fleeting hours. Insomnia loved me with my dark purple scars under my eyes. I loved Insomnia and the way she made me feel like the last person alive.
- - -
This isn't a cry out for help. I'm not that kind of girl (person, child, thing). Sound boy has been telling me all about his own sleeping problems, even if he doesn't think I've been listening. He whispers them into the night and hopes that someone hears him and saves him from himself. His heart may be more scarred than his arms.
- - -
Cancer boy must have finally fallen prey to the disease in his knees. He said he was going to walk until his legs wouldn't walk anymore. Perhaps his knees gave out in the middle of a freeway. It would be ironic for his freedom to end there, right after he paid his $1.25 in nickles and dimes. He tells me that it worries him that someone will raise the price up again. He wants to know why he has to pay for a freeway. Because you live on it, I told him. He always throws an extra nickle in now.
- - -
I was in a car wreck on Saturday. My brother couldn't break fast enough, and I watched as his courage crashed through the windshield. He's so broken now. He walks as if his legs are made of glass and might break if he runs. He stands close to me now and is always making sure I'm all right. I was in the passenger seat. I wonder if he's all right, but I never ask him anymore. I know he isn't. I know he won't be all right for a long time.
- - -
I've been falling asleep to sunrises and hoping that I never wake back up.
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