Spoken Poetry

Stillness

I am in a point of stillness. This word gathers the saliva in my mouth as every letter is dripped from my tongue.

S. T. I. L. L. N. E. S. S.

A word that means many things. The calm before the storm, the minute before you fall asleep.

Sleep. How good it feels to sleep. How good it feels to slowly drift off into a dream. But my body kicks back up and stays awake. My brain won't shut up, won't stop turning and making noise, and keeping my body awake.

Why did I do that? What is wrong with me?

Sleep is beautiful. Sleep is something I crave. It lets me forget the tortures around me and just dream of what could be, what could happen if I worked for it.

Sleep.

The quietness. The peacefulness. My eyes are closing, my thoughts are slowing.

Wake up! You can't sleep yet. Think. Think. Think.

Think.

Think.

What are you thinking?

I'm a disaster. I ruin things. People, objects, emotions. I ruin myself. I destroy the good things I have.

Just go to sleep. Dream about better things. Fall asleep. Close yours eyes.

Breathe deeply.

Sleep. Let your body numb and your brain lay still.

Still.

Quiet.

Drifting again. Into a slow and happy world. I dream of beautiful things and lovely things.

Stop trying to sleep! Wake up. Remember all your past. What you did wrong. You are terrible. You are reckless. You don't deserve moments of peacefulness. The calm. The stillness.

Stillness.

This is stillness.

The moment before drifting off into sleep, and the moment you lie awake, staring at the ceiling, not moving a muscle, and just thinking about all the things you have done wrong. Thinking of all the people you have screwed.

Stillness.

I hate the stillness.
But I love the stillness.

It is my only friend.