Break in Being

A Poem by Falling Awake

Attempting to toss
into coordinates of comfort,
I fail to find a prime position
to support my heavy heart,
and to contain my racing mind.

A blanket-
always too stiff-
clings uncomfortably
to my spent body,
which I reluctantly trust
to wake up once more again.

A pillow-
always too flat-
smothers the thickening air
as my lungs try to
swallow reality once more.

I plea to the pause
fragmenting awareness
to rise and resume,
as the void encroaches
and consciousness escapes me.