There are spaces hidden in plain sight, between the white noise and the chaos, the peace behind the hell, the silence following the song. I hear them always. They wake me dead out of sleep, pinch and slaughter, yearn and bleed, hold me with promises, filthy me with lies, and they all break, like I break, torturing my pieces into the cruelest crumbling. Come to my window, sing me fast asleep with lullabies that swear not to make light of my heart as long as my eyes stay shut so tight, and just along the dark of night, the moon sleeps next to me and we dream of glowing in the dark in spaces that stay hidden. In my dreams I go there. Sometimes I make my home there. But I never stay to grow there.