it's night again.
the room gets dark.
the stars—my audience.
the moon—my stage light.

my thoughts resurface
behind the velvet curtains of my mind.
they’re loud, bold—
as if to make me shrink.

it's 2.07am.
and i can no longer tell the difference
between silence and screams.

i turn and turn
like hands of the clock.
tic. tic.
TOC.

it's morning again.
curtains close like tired eyelids.
the stars fall.
the moon dims.
maybe now
sleep will remember
that it still owes me.