Get it Right

Some days, I spend the whole day
feeling like as I walk,
as I move,
I leave behind a slight heat signature.
A trace.

Evidence that I was there.
Like my mind is bleeding. Like
my dreams and the bad things in them
have found a way
to come

out.

I miss time. Time misses me.
Conversations in anticipation of conversations
that will likely never happen.
Confrontation
that I am prepared for.
Because I have practiced.
Again,

and again,

and again, while making coffee.

The clock that stopped four days ago says
it’s lunchtime. The computer says I should have eaten
hours ago.

The blackness says
I should keep practicing.
Someone may come.
I may need to
be awake.

I missed the signs before.
Must practice.

Must get it right.

Whatever it is.