1:52; my body feels calm being tuned to soft mellow beats pounding euphorically against my ears. No intentions to fall asleep even though sleep feels enticing. But what’s the reason I press my head filled with unwilling thoughts against striped colored pillow cases, to build comfort or escape the face of reality. The two o’clock reflections are going to start to roll in soon, if I’m not awake to see it all.

No matter what, these eyes grow tired from laying awake to bitter darkness that surrounds me. How the wolves would howl once the moon has risen higher into the sky; lurking shadows wonder amongst streets but never shoe underneath orange street lights. I, on the other hand, try to lay down and be comfortable as possible but struggle to do so. It’s not the wonders of my mind, it’s not sleeping all day and being wide awake at night. After a while I tend to forget why I’m conjoined with the calm atmosphere when there are better things to do after midnight.

My mind seems to be separated from everyone else. The first one to see the sun rise and set, how luminance of the moon isn’t bright enough for shadows darkness when others rest upon soft mattresses. Floating in a space that doesn’t exist for any human eye to see; stuck in between the invisible air and some sort of dimension of pure serenity. After a while I tend to forget where I am and time isn’t on my wrist watch anymore.

It’s weird, out of no where I feel completely unsure of what’s around me and even who I am. Too many times my head shakes as if this is some sort do dream and I’ll wake up and stare out my window. The room of a distant space keeps spinning until I regain my composure and realize all of this is forever. How did my eyes stare at a luminescent moon into purple and black space surrounding me; all of this will make sense sooner or later.

It’s always those midnight reflections that leave me thinking about so many possibilities and etc. Something about the calm stillness in the atmosphere keeps me calm and tuned in to all
those lingering thoughts. I never question how night brings about all these open minded ideas and takes them into consideration. Sure enough I won’t be induced to intense thinking, instead considering the fact of actually using my bed to sleep and not a therapy for my mind. Well, maybe not all the time.

As bright blue skies are eventually filled with a dark blanket with white dots, it all starts to kick in and gears function these wonders of so-called late night marauder. Soon words will fade and images will become blurry until my eyelids shut to another vision of complete darkness. It’s all just a cycle that repeats itself and I’m just the spoke on the wheel.

I’ve talked about shadows and how they watch me sleep once the moon hovers above. How my eyes have seen nights pass by like seconds when they can’t close shut to see a different ominous dark, but leads into a surreal world. It’s as if it all makes me envision what it wants me to see rather than opening up gallons of paint and throwing it all on canvases in order to paint a whole different picture. I can’t disagree, or let alone not believe what they see when all eyes are shut from the world and no one else is watching. 

But once bright sun rays shine through my blinds, all the shadows disappear and they secrets are never told about how night abuses midnight marauders that wonder around dark streets. An essence lifted once daylight slows down and dark over powers the landscape; an inhale like a fresh breath air for them as they feed off cold night breezes. 

I could let myself stay up but never see what their eyes see—same atmosphere but different visions. Watching as their silhouettes move from house to house; a form of smoke passing in the air and through brick walls. Even if my body was restless and stayed up after hours, I could never amount to what they night as.