Dawn

I wake before the sun has the chance to break the night. Frantic eyes adjust to darkness as clammy hands shaking with fright, find the endless expanse of my matress damp with memories and fear. They press me up and up, scrambling, because I cannot stay in here. Here with the corpses, with the stench of the past, here where air eludes me and all far too fast, do I force down the water, kept next to my bed. And flick on the blades, that soon whir overhead. I pry off my shirt, and tear off the covers. Look towards the moon, and observe how it hovers. But inevitably there comes the end of they day, when I lay myself down and my thoughts start to fray. I settle back into my coffin of slumber, silently praying that this time I'll stay under.