brightness

I'm splintering, 
fracturing.

The monster inside me 
is winning the war. 

The room tilts, 
everything is bright, 
a sterile white, 
the shadows only spots
that swim lazily
across my eyelids 
when I close my eyes. 

I close my eyes
too often now. 

The light is blinding, 
the absence of shapes
confuses me. 

The couch, the walls, 
the Christmas tree 
still up in July. 

All blend
into the brightness
that pulses.

This is not a drunken poem. 
I am not an alcoholic. 
I don't sit 
alone by my phone
waiting for texts 
that never come. 

I am not a broken woman. 
This is not a shattered heart.

inside my mind

late night and anger flashes 
fast as lightning, 
a steady staccato 
like a strobe light 
unnerving and disorienting

I am left 
with spots in my vision
left reeling and recoiling
damaged and distressed

I fight the demons
punching and kicking
pushing back 
against the fear 
that the nightmares inside me 
will win

late night 
and the monsters 
break their chains, 
fierce and teethed
with talons and fangs
they tear into me

and all I can do  
is keep fighting this battle
that blasts like thunder
inside my mind