Who do you call when you wake in the middle of the night forgetting?

Visions of my dog’s funeral ring into black empty spaces

and I wonder how the passage of time takes us through open doors.

The ceiling provides no solace in questions fostered inside clammy hands

so instead I step into portals, blinding light, images of starseeds, and

incarnate paralysis of how far I fall to go to sleep. When I drift off

we’re able to reunite within dark matter, and the memories I still keep

hide away, betrayed by unknowing desire to lose my innocence.

When I wake I’m met by breaks in sunlight shining into my face.

Warmth makes me realize that I visit suffering too often than I should

and the love that’s inside me is closer than I originally thought.

Unable to blink, I find myself growing fond of the ringing in my ears

until it grows silent and I am once again left with my own thoughts.

If you speak alone to yourself, how can you tell it’s not in your head?