I am eternally nocturnal
Cradled in the richest part of the night
Where the sheets are wreathed around my thighs
And the fan is whirring
The stars are spinning
In a plastic milk way
On my ceiling
It is nearly four am
And here I am
Spinning in sheets
cool night air
Smoother than water
Wrapped with the breeze
That flutters in across the window sill
Sending the curtains dancing
Like love struck ghosts
I am unshaven
Half naked
Completely alone
Except for the hum of crickets
And the distant rum of streetcars
I am drinking in this night
Like an alcoholic
I guzzle down this atmosphere
And I am drunk on the grayness
The enveloping black
That covers us all above our heads
While most of us sleep soundly in our beds
But here I surge and churn and dream while conscious
This hour of solitude
And quiet exploration
Through my own imagination
here I am awake
here I am intimate
And wholly alive
Here I am conscious enough
To tear apart the subconscious
And deconstruct
Half my life
When the morning comes
The magic is dispersed
The sun flips the switch
That turns off
My true self
And now I must dress and stand and walk about
With these weird people
That sleep in the moonlight
And walk under the sun


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