Insomnia

There are drops of blood
On my bed sheets again.

I explore my arms in the
Moonlight, finding the
Small,
Crooked tears.

The nightmares are
Frequent, a mix of old familiars
And new, fresh
Fear.

Each time, I try to claw
The frightened part out,
Trying to separate myself
With small,
Blunted nails.

They're just strong enough
To open me to
The stifling air.

I clean myself in the bathroom,
My red-rusting fingers,
The small rips in my skin.

And then I go back to bed,
Wrapping myself in blankets.

I lie in the dark,
Wide-eyed,
And forbid myself to sleep.

Grey breaks over my
Windowsill,
The beginnings of the
New day,
And I'm safe.
Finally safe.