Zopiclone Dreams

I had a secret zopiclone tablet stashed away. Two, actually.
They were yours, originally, Daddy. You hated them.

I was angry that the doctor prescribed them to you;
you told him that you couldn’t breathe at night;
you couldn’t breathe because you only had 1.3 lungs
riddled with emphysema, and when you lay down
in your bed at night, the fluid in your 1.3 lungs would move
from the bottom where it sat all day, up to the top of your 1.3 lungs
and it made it even more difficult to breathe than usual
because your lungs were drowning in mucus;
the doctor thought you were having panic attacks
at night because you were scared

of? not being able to breathe? dying???
you were the most fearless human I have ever met
you never had a panic attack in your life
you laughed at death
fuck death, you said

so he prescribed you zopiclone
to “help you sleep”

ZOPICLONE! the zombie pill! the super sedator!
the tablets that I used to be addicted to /
the pills I used to abuse when consciousness was too
painful / that I used to eat for breakfast / that induced in me 3 day sleeps /
that the psychiatrist was only meant to prescribe for a maximum of 2 weeks /
that I took handfuls of instead of killing myself /
choosing to take one-too-many zopi
and have a super sleep
instead of taking
a blade to my veins
instead just getting
into bed
closing my eyes
and fading
into sleep
into peace
into harmless zopiclone dreams

you took 1 once
you had nightmares
you woke up in a cold sweat
you hallucinated a man at the window
you never took them again

Don’t throw them away Daddy, those pills are like gold dust!!!
Well, I don’t want them, you can have them or sell them, just get them away from me.
Thank you, thank you!

I took one after you died.
It was necessary at the time.
How I’d missed that sweet, sweet zopi sleep.
But no abuse this time: no: no abuse,
for Daddy gave me these:
no eating the whole packet for fun:
no selling them to kids on the street:
these tablets are only
to be consumed thoughtfully:
only in an emergency

when the world was so unbearable to me,
when I couldn’t bear to be awake a moment longer,
when it was safer for me to sleep
to sleep
perchance to dream
but not to die
just remove myself
from life
it was best to take a little beige tablet
to stop the thoughts but not the heart
to stop the pain but not the lungs
to keep me safe
to save me from me
and the Thing in my brain
that was trying to kill me
just sleep that sweet zopi sleep
and wake up after a day or three
having forgotten
what it was
that I was
so upset about in the first place

I took Daddy’s zopiclone sporadically
only when necessary
when desperate for sleep
only in an emergency.
I haven’t had one in months,
in ages actually,
maybe more than a year,
but the other night
I had to
do what I had to
do, to save me
from me,
to sleep,
to dream,
to stop being
to stop dying

I really needed to sleep and he wouldn’t let me.
He knows how I get
if I don’t sleep.
I told him I was exhausted.
I’m so tired baby, I need to sleep, please, let me sleep.
He got angry at me.
He partied, louder and harder and longer
and I couldn’t sleep.
He shouted at me.
I didn’t like the shouting.
It scared me.
The noises made me cry.
And still I couldn’t sleep.

I had no choice but to use the emergency tablet:
I took a zopiclone / that I had secretly hidden away
from the packet / that has your fingerprints on it
I looked at the photo / of your smiling face
and I said,

I think this can be classified as an emergency. Right Daddy?
This qualifies. This is an emergency. I really, really need to sleep. I’m so tired

and swallowed it
and went to bed
and waited
for that sweet, sweet zopi sleep
and nothing

but noise and tears
and I really need to fucking sleep, please, God let me sleep.
I want to die. But I want to sleep first.
Please let me sleep. Please?
I am so tired.
I go back
to the secret packet
to the final pill
my last chance at sleep:

Oh, look! These expired in 2017!
That’s why the first pill didn’t work, Daddy, that’s why!!!
It’s expired! Its efficiency is surely compromised!

so that means that it’s fine
for me to take another,
the last one, the only one
the only one left,
the one zopiclone I’ll
probably ever have
probably ever get.

This is an emergency, Daddy.
I really really really need to sleep.

So I’m taking it, Daddy,
the final zopi,
the end of the
tablets you gave me.
This isn’t an overdose,
this is an emergency,
this is personal safety,
this is choosing
sleep instead of death.

Thank you for agreeing with me, Daddy.
I needed to take these, I just really need to sleep

And I did.

I fell asleep.

I went to sleep
but it wasn’t as good as it should’ve been.

In my dreams, he was strangling me.

Then a thousand hands were grabbing me
clawing at my neck
trying to tear my vocal chords
out of their home
ripping my voicebox
out of my throat
and it was scary, Daddy,
everyone was trying to silence me
to steal my voice from me
but I was fighting back
I promise
I fought so hard

and when I woke
sooner than I’d planned
my body was sore
there was blood under my nails
and in the mirror I saw
that my neck was scratched
deep gashes and
red raw and swollen
and bruised and hurt hurt hurt

it seems that my failsafe
my protector
my darling zopiclone
didn’t work

Sadly, Daddy,
it seems that I can still try to kill me
even when I’m asleep.

Sorry, Daddy,
I was trying to help me
but I only made me worse.

Lucky, Daddy,
that I’ve got no more zopi left
isn’t it?


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