You know that buzz that you feel when you stay up?
I feel that almost every night.
Midnight, the middle of the night.
The word is so simple, yet so mysterious.
Midnight, the witching hour.
When "things" happen. The root of so many horror stories.
When the fabric of reality wears thin.
Thinner than a single fiber of a spider's web.
That buzz, that awful buzz that makes you feel like a zombie and a daredevil.
That buzz that reminds you of the snores of everyone else in the house.
That buzz is the sanity in your brain, telling you to go to sleep.
You need sleep, it says.
Sometimes, sometimes we don't want to sleep..
Sometimes we're scared of what we would find in our dreams.
Sometimes we don't have a choice, and we must stay up.
Sometimes.. we stay up to see these things that I've mentioned. The phenomenons.
The hallucinations.
The hysteria, the myths, the legends. We stay up to see what has been forbidden, what we have been WARNED about.
And it never pays off.
YOU ARE READING
Complexity
ŞiirA poem collection. These.. mean a lot to me. "Complexity is being me, not knowing who you'll really be, knowing you'll have to wait and see."
