What is it about the night time that makes us so vulnerable?
Because at 3am the world seems to stop.
I am shaded by a black veil of unconsciousness
and madness that sputters onto my pillowcase.
I feel weaker in the unknown;
It possesses a certain uncertainty that is kept
a secret between my skin
binding itself to my membrane.
I am not the queen of mystery nor the goddess of the night;
I cannot wear a cloak that will swallow me like a sewer-
that will distort me into a fragment.
I crouch in corners and lurk loosely between fiction
and reality