To own a selfish and reckless will,
It is monstrous and a tyrant over me still,
It holds the hand of my ambition when I meet my shy dreams,
And hands me a cup of cowardice sourced from apathy's streams.

Passion has a seat at the banqueting table,
It wants to be more than friends with unstable,
A chaotic spiral of emotions has awoken,
But time wears the crown and I think time has spoken.

Can I sit and stare?
Can I just listen to the hums of appliances?
As if they were someone speaking and being ignored
How could they be ignored now that it's hushed around here?

Tender light of gentle star
Splendid night by lunar measure
Loathe the shining kiss of day
Where busy work takes place of leisure.

2:00am
***** sheets
A locked up jaw
And dread-dried-joy

It’s at 3 am
when I imagine you.
Your hands, the way you move them
around my body, roaming through.
Your voice makes me go weak,
my legs trembling at each word.
I have been like this for a week.
The way you’ve got me is absurd.

There is nothing like waking up exhausted.
You want to go back to sleep, but you can't.
You aren't sure if you were asleep to begin with.
You had laid in bed for so long in a half-asleep haze
that you can't be sure whether you finally slipped into your dreams or not.

But going by how miserable you feel,
trying to force tired limbs out of bed
while your eyes want to close for just a little while longer,
You can only assume the answer.

What time did you wake up anyway?
3 or 4 in the morning?
What time did you go to bed?
9 O'clock?
You should feel less tired,
but the reality is that you took three hours of tossing and turning,
praying for sleep,
before finally slipping into it for just a few
scarce moments before you're
jerking back away at some ungodly hour
just to spend the next two trying to fade away again.

And then you have to get up.