Only at the darkest hours do i ask myself the questions i don't want to know the answers to. You may know the darkness to hide things but i found it is where the unexpected comes to light. The daylight hours are a facade of happily conformed routines, often mistaken for helping you see better. Caught up in the day, even side by side, we are apart. There is a distance between us only the darkness seems to fill. 3am when the world is at rest, it is just you and me and everything from our day we have left unsaid. The dark silence reveals the truths we witheld when the sun was in the sky. Maybe it is harder to be dishonest at night because there are billions of stars in the sky to witness it.

Snapchat me at 11 pm
Are you drunk for courage or for remission?

"I like you"
"You're beautiful"
"I want to *******"
You say, "call me" and we talk until 3am because I think I like you too and mostly because I know, we know, we're both so lonely.

It seems like you only talk to me when you're drunk but my mind tells me it's better than being ignored, like after Halloween when you couldn’t look me in the eyes. I thought it was the kiss and I still don't know if you remember or if you just pretended to forget. I remember, because you don't forget cinnamon liquor - like your skin, warm and bright.

I left town last week and you snapchatted me saying you missed me, at 3am again, in my new bed. You're leaving in August and I'm scared. Because I'll miss you too.

i know you.*

i know how you looked at me the first time our eyes met
"what the hell does this guy want from me?"

i know you.

i know how what they called the "devil's hour" never feels like it because of your fruitless attempts to suppress your laughter when we're on the phone

i know you.

i know how happiness fills me when your fingers fill the gap in mine, or when your warmth permeates my very being.

and now i know how one letter can make *one heck of a difference

*i knew you.

when i looked at what i had been writing
i came to the realization that
i had been trying, so desperately
to mask my insecurities and trials
with sweet poetry and prose

why do i still try to hide
what i feel, on this anonymous poetry account

this hiding has gone far beyond just the reaches of the internet
it has pervaded into each sector of my life

i. i hide from myself

i fool myself with forced optimism
and the mentality that
my wounds are nothing but shallow scratches
that, if it can't be healed with time, then
it can be healed with adjustment and moving on

ii. i hide from others

i pretend, that they, too are fooled
by my obvious act
as i push everyone away
with lies of
"i'm fine" and "i'm okay"

why can't i come out of hiding

i'm the man drinking coffee alone at the diner who kindly asks you for the time. you reply but you don't even look at me in my eyes.
i'm the lone deer you hit while driving at 3am. you don't even stop the car. you even forgot about it the next day.
i'm the homeless cat you stopped feeding at night. i still meow at your doorstep. you just ignore it.

3AM
phychotic nightmare
awakened,but dead
crimson blood, where I lay
body frail, numb skin
images of grey corpse
in my sickened mind
so deranged,so ******...
home but not sheltered
a devil
a holy and sacred soul
takened from nirvana
pinned at the edge
of this disillusional world

i am sitting here at 3 am
confronting the empty side of my bed
my thoughts hold me hostage
to create a cage
that i will not be able to escape

i try to play dead
until they leave me alone
i try to shift shapes
for a hope they might leave
i try lighting a candle
for flicks of light to cast
the darkness away
but i soon begin to realize
that im not afraid of the dark

i cant get out of bed
my thoughts are holding me hostage
im at a place i dont want to be at
and can not leave
the sound of loneliness slowly begins to deafen me
the silver ray of moon is almost blinding me

all that i see through the reflection of my glass
are the bones of a hollow body, just like silver, starting to rust

and here i speak to my thoughts
that i have surrendered to their thoughtless plots
they ring my ears, with demands
to give up my soul to their filthy hands

i stumble as i try to stand up
i am as weak as a sedated body ready to be cut
my knees tremble like magnets
attached to no other but my bed
they repel any movement to stand up straight

panic fills my fearful cup
my gaze shifts to my reflection
and i see the ghost
of forgotten remains of someone who
has lost

i do not want to die
i deserve more
than being ended by no other than my filthy thoughts
i force my eyes open and smash the reflection with both my fists
adrenaline painfully waking my body up
with every ounce i have left
i try to detach myself from my bed
i am peeling layers off
and have never been in more pain
but it is all worth the pain
for i wont fail myself again
to become forgotten ruins
of a life-time faded into a blank sheet

there is more to my story
than just an empty bed
for i will not be manipulated
by my own self again
even if it shall be 3 a.m again