MIDNIGHT

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MIDNIGHT

Friends
Call me alive
Call me altruistic
Call me artistic

Others









Parents
Call me different








Call me edgy
Call me distant







Call me erratic
Call me detached








Call me eccentric


But at midnight

Alone

No expectations,
No estimations,
No limitations;
No straight lines,
No measurements,
No calculations;
Nothing to bar or bare the way
Nothing to plan or hope or seek
Nothing to do but wait for morning -

Who am I?








Who am I?
Who am I?


Am I these things
Any,
All?

One of those masks of generic


Neutrality
Stereotypical prototypes



Never finished




Never right





Every experiment






Moving closer







To the perfect














Unknown?

Who am I at midnight?


Can’t read grade point averages
Too-small print
In Times New Roman font
On legal-size paper
The same colour
As crumbled eggshells
In the sink

Can’t see my reflection
In the full length mirror
I hate so much
Yet can’t tear my eyes from
In the morning getting dressed
Or just about every other time
I walk by

Can’t hear the echo
Of words spoken aloud in the dark
Secrets, lies, hopes, and wishes,
Love and lust
Bridges burned
Castles built
For white knights
…Or maybe just dragonflies


Tonight.





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This article has 1 comment. Post your own now!

ShmoneD said...
Jan. 10, 2013 at 2:05 pm
I have read all of your writing and it is amazing. I love the way you write. Please never give up and continue to write for the world.
 
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