Fractured

Sometimes i lie awake, troubled by sleep,

and wonder about the brevity of this reality.

Days pass in a state of disarray;

minutes are scattered amid the green grass of the lawn,

hours dance down darkened streets upon the lazy wind,

seconds get tossed in with the bottles and cans

to be reduced reused recycled again and again.

Sometimes I lie asleep, troubled by dreams,

and wonder about the ephemerality of this reality.

My weary heart beats wildly in the inky black night,

tossing turning tumbling down into the void,

caught in a vaccuum of timeless, senseless agony.

Questions cling to the whitewashed walls

like miles of mirrors hanging clustered and crooked,

and in every pane there is a reflection of me.

The heavy stone in my palm cast hard and quick

shatters each Jesse into a million tiny interrogatives,

and kneeling down upon bloody knees

I gather up the shards of my broken self,

bit by bit,

piece by piece.

Done