Round three o’clock,
I’ll roll over— wide-eyed and violent,
Tummy to the bed;
Leaning on my elbows, thoughts racin’ through my head
Like I never slept at all.

I’ll look around, searching for something
In the empty night; in the empty bed,
Anything that’ll keep me free from my head, but
I won’t find it— just my half-eaten dreams. And me:

Hungry cannibal,
Watching in despair
As they shiver and dissolve, like whispers in the air—
But they’ll come around again; they know me well.

All too soon I’ll step out
From the empty bed
Where the monster sleeps, and I scramble at threads

That shiver and dissolve  in the empty night
Where morning hides. But that’s alright;
I’ve come to love them, the frost and the stars—

Perhaps like me, they’ve got lonely hearts.