Late night attempts at living.

I have homeless knots
hanging in my closet,
and no, I won't explain
what that means.

I have metal heads
buried in pockets,
and loose skin
looking for a skeleton.

I have soundless secrets
being sung by crickets,
and florescent lights
burning old memories.

I have naked limbs
forming a sheath,
and unloved sorrow
sweating down my chin.

I have a million reasons
why I can't sleep,
and I have even more
on why I should.