one word

The stars all settled in the ceiling, and the wind was all out of breath. The moon was hiding in some haystack, and the night spilled down the stairs. I thought I would pause to count my heartbeats, but my eyes soon filled with smoke. Always a fire, always something burning. Always some new pen awaiting that last stroke.

You would think that sleep would be forgiving. You think that dreams could be fantastical and kind. Sleep though is only a seance, and my dreams keep bringing the dead to life. Not for portents, or for warnings. Not for sigil or for sign. Just awkward parties and clipped conversations. Just the realization upon awakening of all the depths and measures I have lost.

So the clock turns and time does its stepping. I am here while midnight has the floor. Every prize lacks consolation. Every wish is another battered door. The moon long gone, and the stars all settled. The words come round just to roost on the wire. Something wanted is a bet yet taken. Something lacking never needs a finish line. Asleep, or startled and awakened, my life leaves one word at a time.