Deep bass thunder rumbles him awake
His room, warm and empty, is black from night
Rain wails on the window.
The outside is dark and drowning.
He lays back down, pulls his blankets up
watches the window take the weather
with its wet glass, and lines of water carving veins
and black snake shadows that crawl in his eyes.
The inside is dark and drowning.
Things are going to get better, he thinks
Things are going to look up.
And gently he falls back asleep under the soft thunder
warm and safe in his room, alone.
And the snakes slowly slide and writhe
cutting blackened scars across his sleeping face.