Menthol Madness creeps into my head.  
Tattooed Touch fills my mind.

I am not ready for this day to end. I never am - a lover of the night, I blur the lines between sunrise and sunset frequently. I lie on my back and think of skin, smoke, sense. My senses feel deprived. I need stimulation, stimulants....something. No one is awake. I am restless, unable to sleep.

What keeps me awake all of these nights? What occupies my mind during these hours? What keeps me up at night?

Red sheets and the
Cool sides of my crimson pillow case.
Warm air
Breezes into my brand new place.
My fan is rotating
The birds are conversating
The sun will rise soon
And then it will be noon
And then the day will be done
But I'll still feel the sun
From my heart beat sheets
And my room, complete.

My dreams are more vivid now
I'm out of the fog
I have a schedule, a routine, a home
Yet somehow I still can't sleep
I stay up too late
Just thinking, being, processing myself
Eternally exhausted
Permanent gray weights sit underneath my eyes, pulling them down towards the inferno
I feel pretty though, I get attention
I feel light most days
Until night comes
I slip, I fall, I carry this weight until I'm alone
And it all comes crashing down
In the fog of night.

Maybe I stay awake so late because I like the quiet
Maybe I love dark colors because my whole soul is violet
Maybe I love warm food because my heart needs warmth and kindness
Maybe I'm searching for something because I usually find less

I laid in your bed, touching your body with the same hands that cursed it hours before
They cursed all men, pointing at the deceit and insecurities I have about myself

They pointed at me, then back at you, then back at me.
A cycle of love and hate, processing and empathy.

The curves of your body made me numb
The vibrations of your pump every hour
The vibrations of your pumping heart every second I could feel it in my hands every time I lingered just a bit too long
My fingers whispering secrets to your skin

As you talked on the phone, worlds away, in your language, I paused
I admired you. Strong not only by the arms I was holding, but by the head I was kissing
Your love for me seemed so great in those 11 hours.

Maybe 10. I'll round up in this case.

2pm and I finally make it back
You text me,

'did you make it back ok?'

It made me smile.
I walked three flights of steps back to my home.

'No, I died'

But part of me had
Friendship had turned to love
Love had turned into resentment
Resentment turned into heartache
They leave they leave they leave. They always leave.
And I sit here, alone
Wondering what I could have done to make you stay.

Maybe I admire the way you treat me as if I'm the only ******* your mind for those 10 hours.
11, I mean.
Maybe I think that the way you soften when I'm near is because of my heart
Maybe it's because I'm young and impulsive
A constant battle between love and hate

Pointing my finger to blame someone, something
Pointing out my flaws
Pointing out the ones who left
Staring in a mirror, I point

Escape is inescapable, pointing is fun
Maybe what I'm looking for is someone to point at me and say 'you're the one'

I saw you posted a few hours ago that it was raining outside your window

It's raining here now - the first time in awhile.
It must be the same storm. How odd that I never think of how close we are
On this tiny little planet
Under this tiny little sun
Feeling the rain from the same storm.

It's funny, isn't it?
The same angels that bowled over your head are still playing
The rain that's falling has been around since earths creation
I hear it pouring now. Loud, but silent.

My mother likes to stand outside and watch the Lightning strike
Maybe she watched the same storm we did
Maybe she's feeling the rain her ancestors felt.
Maybe she's at peace.

I barely survived the Devils hour last night

There was music playing in my ears for awhile, a strange combination of tunes I became enveloped in

They cushioned my thoughts as I read, blocking out the birds that started chirping out of turn, and the crosswalk beeping every three minutes on the dot

The reason I almost didn't survive, however, had nothing to do with the music or the story or the crosswalk

I heard something coming for me

A shadow, but I heard it
It comes for me some nights
There's no pattern like the crosswalk signal
I've fought it before, so I am usually ready for it
But this time I forgot to bring my armor to the orchestra

I came exposed, in an oversized Sherpa coat
You see, I was cold
The armor would have chilled my skin
I'm so sorry I forgot it, my shield too
I was unprepared

The synesthetic darkness crept over me, like an invisible thunderstorm, or the lowest note on a bass guitar, or the smell of burnt toast

I could not fight it
I am sorry
I will try harder

Do not forget your armor, they said
We know certain things will always happen, they said  
One, is that the crosswalk signal will always beep every three minutes
The other, is that the darkness will come, and it will prey on those who are not prepared.