me up.
car alarms can't stop
crying. dogs don't know
how to silence
their howling.
morning fog extends
this street
as i pretend to fall
back through my reverie
where no doors shut,
slamming out the screamed
i hate yous,
longing to linger
on dinner table nights.
and tipped-over feelings
don't stain the carpet.
and misunderstandings
turn into pillows
fighting and
this family laughing,
trying to forgive
the spilled rice and guilt.
but as hard
as i try
i cannot keep sleeping
here alone in
this bed, in
this restless state
where people are people
who were not born
to live in dreams.
but to, instead, awaken
this place we call home.
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