In a city that never sleeps
At 1am the trains have stopped
But jeepney engines roar
You can see a few dressed in ragged
Shouting, sometimes laughing
Their dark skin burnt
By stinging rays of reality
At most times you will see a few going through
Garbage bags and bins for salvation
Just like how they go through
The bulks and ******* of everyday life
At 1am the most interesting people come out
Friends, lovers on a rendezvous
Waiting in line
Hungry
A 68-year old man
Ready to clean up and opens doors for everybody
A teenage girl sitting
Plain bored and disinterested
Until a much older man comes up
Asked a few questions
Then left together
Kids hitching on maddened wheels
Jump off and ask for alms
Ready to grab whatever catches their attention
Like how they hold on to questions
Which their parents fail to answer
At 1am you will see
Street lights and dark alleys
Stop lights blinking red to green then orange
And back to red again
People cross the streets
Cautious, guarded against shadows
Lurking on the darkest corners of the streets
At 1am you will see
The ****** and the blessed
The ill-fated and the comfortable
Mix up on the streets
You may decide to
Go on watching
Or
Put your cigarette out
And call it a day
But for people alive at 1am
Life goes on
In a city that never sleeps

-Malaya Sanchez

There's a train departing at 1am.
It's not the normal trains who's wheels squeal on tracks or whistles blow and wheels screech to avoid crashes
The train I'm talking about is my train of thought.
Normally everything is linear.
Everything is fine and I over think every once in a while
But every once in a while, around 1am
My disaster train leaves and I can't rein it in
Here come the insecuties and old heart breaks
Angry old rants and sadistic new views
It's all jumbled mess and it comes with feness
And crashes through the walls of my mind like-well a freight train.
There's a train leaving at 1am.
We know where it goes and what hops aboard.
Let's just try and close those eyes
Before your up late enough to hear the wistle blow.

Trying to juggle at 1am,
Trying to catch those ******* *****,
Trying to throw them the"right way",
Trying to do everything everyone tells me,  
Everything that I can't do.

Thoughts swirling in my brain,
Fogging my concentration.
Self-doubt arising,
wondering why no one has called me a failure yet.
Questions screamed to the universe.

All this fuss,
Just for three juggling *****,
Three juggling ***** which I can't juggle,
Three juggling ***** leading to my accusation of a failure,
Three juggling ***** questioning my capacity.
All this for three juggling *****.