Haven't you ever been scared you would not wake up? I have — every night. Every night I close my eyes and sleep escapes me. Because I'm scared. I can't let it steal me, not yet, not when I'm not ready. If I'm unconscious I lose control, I again relinquish part of myself to the unstoppable decay; I can't stomach that. So though I stay tired, christ, tired as night itself when it comes, I don't sleep. I lie thinking in the dark. I don't give. Doctor says it's killing me.
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HIS OWN NO MAN'S LAND'S MAN
PRODUCTIONS
- PITCH review
- London, United Kingdom
- Joint publishers of Oxford Poetry ’07, Oxford Poetry ’08 and numerous PITCHes.
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