Bedtime

Alexis Borbotsina

I spray my pillows with perfume,

As I always do to encourage sweet dreams.

And I gather my roots into a bandana,

Not as a fashion statement, or any statement at all.

I lazily stroll down the dusty hall

That I haven’t bothered to vacuum for months,

Because what’s the point?

With so many injustices in my world,

Why bother? What’s one more?

The balls of dust are not bunnies.

And the people that made up that name haven’t seen them,

Seen them creeping from the sides and embedding themselves in the threads of the carpet.

If they had, they wouldn’t use an adorable name like bunnies.

They are idiots.

Tears roll down my cheeks by the time I reach

The bacteria-infected bathroom,

Brown life forms expanding from the corner of the tub.

These nights are long,

And the dark ignites an internal light

That I didn’t know my head had behind its eyes.

I’m tired, but can’t find sleep,

Exhausted, but cannot rest.

My eyes are heavy but they will not close.

My mind knows better by now,

Knows the nightmare dreams dwelling in me.

The ones that my conscious self dare not allow

My subconscious to reveal.

But it’s all over when the sun comes up.