The Big Book of Poems

2am

Written after the smallest of inspiration , it's weird because I don't seem to edit my poems , just spelling and grammar and then they're done - that or I forever don't like them xD

And 2 am rolls around so I'm alert to every sound
The ones that aren't there and the ones that are
The ones that are waiting for me to slip
And to fall into slumber so they can conquer
this weak unwilling spirit
and all that she stands for
And 2 am is here again as I count my way back down to just one green bottle
And try my best to keep my mind awake
yet numb
To stare at my walls and wish them to be more entertaining
as the light doesn't reach my corner
So In the dead of night at two am
I am swathed in darkness and drinking in the terrified mess that seems to slip under my door and haunt me
And the blackness and the fog rolls around my tongue and my head and crawls from my ears so everything is just the thumping of my heart against my fragile ear drums
As it ricochets off of my chest walls and creates the sound that I now associate with fragile numbness 2 am