3 AM

3 a.m. phone calls

cutting through silence

the jagged edges

where i used to tell you about my dreams,

nightscapes of thrashing nightmares

crashing through my sleepwalk sleeping

soft and low i could hear you breathing

as i raged and stormed

sketching my death monsters in the air

static live wires,

you received them

held them in your hand

weighed them

let them drop

massive and writhing

on the floor

i think it scared you,

the pretty girl with the ugly dreams

startled and shaking

i would call just to see

if you were still breathing

all i could see

coming out of my pillows

was blood and bone

i had a dream.

who died.

everyone. all the time,

i howled until the line went quiet.

i still wake

swimming under the covers

the slow pulsating sickness

trapped in sleep moving pictures

i reach for the phone

wanting to unleash them

into the earlynightmorning

but there is no number

to dial anymore