Serena Malcolm

Night sweats,
Sheets wet
as cruel scenes stretch
across my inner eyes,
A gnarled and fetid pantomime
of phantom frets
ties
silken binds
across my neck
and chokes
me to the brink of life,
Splits my mind;
Half is here
and half is on the other side,
I’m both
alive
and not alive
in this Schrödinger
of a
mind fuck,
Stuck
in this
metaphysical construct
of time,
And it’s pure blind luck
that I make it through
the night,
Through this
sleepless paradigm
to morning light,
I find
it’s pure blind luck
that I survive,
I may lose my mind
a little
every time,
But I live on
to die
in kind
another
night.