Across the roof cold rain claps,
Oozing, thickly sobbing, over near frosted glass.
I try to sleep and yet I can't,
I close scratched eyes, red numbers drifting,
Faded ceiling skies,
And only the single red lines change.
How long's stretched past?
Drawn, I roll; press my face into yellow down.
A cry, a prayer:
But only the single red lines change.
The rain falls louder,
Sweeping away silken taffeta dreams,
Leaving me the dark,
that dear enticing liar.
Another single red line change,
I wait, count beats, count blinks, count breaths.
My eyes are sticky, my tongue is twisted,
To tight to call away the bleakness,
The rain continues, I swallow, parched.
My eyes finally close, but mattress,
Damn respite, is forbidden.
The red lines change,
I stay the same,
Until slate light tells me I have lost again.
I rise, continue.
The single red lines change.