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Another second, wait for it to roll into minutes; gather sixty and make it an hour. Hours pass slower. Wait, count twenty-four and finally the darkness inside is out. No sun forcing happiness, no people forcing smiles. Only the dark. Dark. Dark. Dark like my insides. My eyes roll, my head thumps. I want a cigarette. Cravings come and go. They're worse now, in my new world. I listen to the streets. Mike talks about his world; it's one I'll never know, never see, never feel. I sit and I scribble. Words seem pointless now, stories a fantasy I've lost. Mindless drivel. Who will care? Who will know? What's the point? Questions fade. Answers have no meaning. Positivity. A concept I used to know, used to understand. Now the darkness calls to me. The light hurts my eyes. I want to sleep but can't find rest. I want to write but can't find words. So I sit and I let the pen move across the crossword paper. Back to basics. Away from machinery, far from the blinding television screen. Sitting, lost, in the sounds of the streets, letting the music wash over me. Letting words come, giving pain an escape. I remember. I sit and I remember and I can't. What was before has gone. I am no more. Eaten whole by emotions I can't control. Take, taste, have, need. Want me. I'm tired. Tired of wakefulness. I need to rest. What I need is creativity. What I want I cannot have. |
Look but don't touch. Run fingers through my hair. This is just for me. No one knows how the night talks to me, how the daylight is no longer a friend. My head hurts and my limbs are heavy. I wake, I breathe, I eat, I walk, I smile, I laugh, I watch and I listen; but I am no longer there. The night has me now. I surrender. |