Nyctophilia

Hempcrete

And I wake up.

Doused in sweat, skin alight with flames.

The kaleidoscope of images that ran through my mind, making up the night. And in all that mess, blood, tears and gore, you turned up.

So close to me in that empty corridor.

My breathing too fast, and you too close.

And your fragmented voice, "I'll take care of you, like you are my flesh and blood ."

And you take my dreams away with you, leaving a pounding heart and open eyes staring into the dark.

And there are too many words shuffling through my head, and I'm to slow and they slip and my head's too loud and your imagined voice seeps through the mist AND I'M ALONE AND SCARED 'CAUSE YOU KNOW WHO LIES BEHIND THAT SHATTERED SCREEN OF A FEW SCARY NIGHTS WHERE MY DEFENSE WAS WAY TOO WEAK AND NOW YOU LIE IN YOUR BED AND I STARE AT THE GRAINS OF SAND THAT DON'T SEEM TO FALL AND I -

I...calm myself down. You had your poker face on or maybe you just didn't care at all. But why do I spend this night thinking about you and our shattered dreams in this world made of shards where we can't succeed?

Where I can't succeed?

You will.

'Cause you're indifferent and happy and can act really well and I'm writing poetry in the cold air with a blanket around my legs and the pillow lies untouched as I wonder what you think about me in the end.

But it doesn't matter.

Does it? Well it shouldn't.

'Cause those few reckless nights of my torn down walls which you witnessed lead to no change 'cause they are building up again, stronger than concrete and I know you'll let them build in peace.

Anon once.

And anon again.

The cycle of ambiguity commences itself.