and i am doing it again:
staying up late at night,
though my drained body wants to rest.
you know it’s getting bad again
if i started refusing to close my eyes
despite the tiredness that i feel
under my eyelids.
but, is it really bad?
i do it ’cause midnight
is the only time of the day
when i can finally secretly meet up
with literature and touch
its bareness.
and the silence
would be filled
with my quiet sobs,
while i force it
not to come out
of my mouth
to the point that
i have to bite
my lips.
i am just so sad
and literature is the only
thing that gives me
company.
and i think nothing can ever touch
my heart the way literature does.
it is what i breathe.
it is what flows in my veins.
it is something that i can’t live without.
and so i will do anything for it,
like sacrificing my sleep just to be able
to write something.
so if i stopped writing,
that’s when you’ll know that
it’s getting much worse.
YOU ARE READING
Found This Book Somewhere In The Forest
Poetry"Talk to my soul later midnight, when the moon's at its peak. That's the only way of communication that I know, because my physical lips will stutter if I told you about how I want to tear my human skin apart and go out."
