A Description of Lonesomeness

In the dark I fear my imaginary sister. There are dimly

lit hallways, alleyways, water pooling

across the carpet. A rug of blood. In the dark I fear

strange sparrows, in the darkness. Throughout my life I have done

my best to sleep away time. Its peculiar passageways,

its drifting through the world. I have swallowed

so much milk, warm and tainted down my throat. It’s no accident

that I am myself again, wailing all over a long

bedroom. I draft all of my mistakes into a document.

Wait for you, or whoever you are, until I can wait no more.