Forgetfullnesss at 3 AM

And so we spiral on and on and on,

tightening like a screw we hold our breath

as life tumbles loose from a

broken, tapering

gasp. We are

numb with loove and paralyzed with hope

as we watch waning vigor dim from

lungs pumped full of air,

brimming with the feistness of life;

just inflated with despair.

Bittersweet crazed cries

tear, rip, right through us, acorss us,

bruise us, butcher us, mangle us—until

we crumble, until

barbed knots of wails and wallows

coil and cleave into

tattered hearts and ribboned souls.

Oh, how we struggle to remember a time when life was as sweet as life was yesterday.