April Fox

This is a filmstrip life
staccato and silent
spliced together,
each panel a container for something
that should have been forgotten
if the soundtrack played along
I'd go insane. 

This is a filmstrip life, 
ticking along 
compelled by ghosts
turn the knob
turn the knob
turn the knob

TURN
the fucking
KNOB

bitch.

The sounds creep in at night,
shouting into my ears
behind my shuttered eyes
Beg.
Cry.
Don't 
fucking
speakthinkfeel

Shut your goddamn trap and I am
yanked awake, frozen
just before I squeeze the trigger

Silence for a second
breathing
blink into the darkness
I know the sound of these breaths, coming now, and as if he knows
he turns
mumbling under his sleepbreath 
rests his body against mine
a wall to keep the nightmares out. 

 
I trace the bones of his fingers against my hip.

This is a filmstrip life
Spliced and ragged
and in between the reels of slumber
I find safety in the dark.