I am going to sleep now
not because that world is better
but because it is quieter.

I will put everything aside
and let myself down easily
into that world.

It is as dangerous there 
as it is here, but if you are taken
in that world, you go quietly

to whatever comes next.
No screaming, no tears,
not a news story to be heard.

When and if you wake up,
it will be a moment
before you know you’re back

in the Noise. Hanging there
between the Silence and the Roar;
that’s its own world, I think; Lord,

how I want
to pursue certainty
about that. 

Hating my words today,
my failing words.
This time demands more
than ill-shaped breath
but it seems that’s all
I have left. Interior 

of the body longing
for the exterior,
spewing words,
trying to make words fit
into places 
they’ve never gone.

I can’t see anything
through the words
stuck to my eyes,
can’t hear anything 
through the words
plastering my ears,
and don’t I just I long
to cut out my tongue — 

if I could stop the flood
I would
for the benefit of all,
for the benefit of me
most of all.

But this is all I have:

this and hope that somewhere
there will be a place and time
where I can love this again;
where it feels 
like it matters
that this is all I can do,
and it is enough.