Post Death Clarity (Lite)

I see the first taunt of every morning, closing my eyes until I can grasp at the first lick of nighttime’s manic silence. I think I’d share my included pillows with anyone who asks, I think I’m at an all time low. I get jittery and obsessive, like a fangirl of anything that opposes finality. The water of the only holy places tells me I’ve got ten seconds of zen before the dread. 

Ten seconds of zen before the dread. 

Unidentified pools of blood pop up all over the world like tent cities, and I can’t even wake up early enough to catch a 7:30 bus ride. 

I think I need to call somebody.