Wednesday, January 12, 2011

1 am

Everything changes at 1 am.
It doesn't matter how good my day was, when I'm still awake at 1 am, I fall apart.
I start to cry and freak out, getting my keyboard wet, looking at pictures of people I don't know.
At least not anymore.
At 1 am, I start to look behind me,
I start to turn around and watch it all pull away.
My little footsteps losing depth in the sand.
This heartbreak tread back and forth finally at a stop,
but I’m not stopping.
I keep looking back, eyes on the rear-view,
little hands asleep in the other room.
Putting the pages of my tear away day back together,
like a flipbook torn, lost to a wind.
Little friends and memories moving to belt buckle states and art schools.
Children in the rear view, buxom and bearded.
Little trees left to die, seeds I never meant to plant.

It hurts.
Watching it all slip away like that, but I don't think I could trade it for anything.
I'm nestled in comfortably, fingers at asdfjkl;
Dreams dreamt proper put aside to rest.
Do you think dreams dream while they sleep?

My dreams are dreaming.

This sort of lucidity only comes at 1 am.
This sort of lucidity comes with pain, and heartache,
chances never taken, roads not traveled.
I don't live in Oregon and I probably never will.
Acceptance is growing up, growing up is dying.
I will shrivel up and die, less than 40 miles away from where I was born.

I will marry, I will breed, I will brood and carry all these weights.
Weights and hatreds held unjust.
Tightly to my core.

Little hands asleep in the next room.

It’s 1 am, and I can’t shake these thoughts.
It’s 1 am.