Compulsive Tendencies
Written By: Arden Falker Sleepwalking toward an old oak door in slippers I forgot that I put on.
Written By: Arden Falker Sleepwalking toward an old oak door in slippers I forgot that I put on.
Written By: Arden Falker
Sleepwalking toward an old oak door
in slippers I forgot that I put on.
Catching a draft in my pajamas
mesmerized by blinding lights.
Drawn toward that straining glow
creaking floorboards as I pass.
Walking through an afterthought
thinking of when I was awake.
Taking measured steps toward the kitchen
when I walk, asleep, alive.
Strolling through my inhibitions
where my muted conscience
continues to hide. In a late evening flame
I indulge in broken sleep.
Rummaging through kitchen drawers
looking for something sharp.
As I dream of cutting grass, fleeting
memories come to pass.
With the water from the stream,
pooling warm, in my hands.
I turn to touch a tree, thrashing against
its calling branch. Splinters wake
me from my haze, of my compulsive state.
Kitchen knives stuck in the door,
bloody hands
oh, the mess I’ve made.
Arden Falker is an emerging poet from Audubon, Minnesota who explores the fault lines where memory, place, and language collide. His work is forthcoming in The Phoenix, The Chimes, The Unhoused Anthology (Prolific Pulse Press), Rundelania, Lovecraftiana Magazine, and Academy of the Heart and Mind.
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