It keeps me up at night;

these fish hooks between my ribs
and acid that rests atop the tongue.
A deep breath, in and out, and in
and out, and now it is three
in the morning, and I surrender.
I am losing this battle with myself. 
The morning used to be a promise—
the warmth real, and loving. I shiver
In summer, hide under blankets,
pray for rain. I ask silent questions
and ache when I get no answers.
This cannot last forever. 
I cannot remember a time before 
this buzzing in my head decided
to make itself at home.
This has always been a part of me.