In the middle of the night
when you doubt everything
even your lover’s cries of pleasure
your heartbeat continues
In the minutes before dawn
when you rearrange in your head
the timeline of your life
trying to find any outcome in which
you feel accepted
your lungs fill
your diaphragm expands
In the time when all seems pointless
when it is more than obvious
that even those closest
seldom speak their full truth
the earth rotates into the coming sun
What will I trust
my brains meanderings
or the first glimmer of light
in a new day?
Slut of the Cloth 
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