Last night I was up until 3 in the morning.
Dawn’s fingers yet to claw at the horizon,
and I lie in bed awake.
It wasn’t for lack of exhaustion-
that much can be said.
With tired eyes and aching limbs, I watched the minutes pass
on a clock that barely worked.
4 hours and 27 minutes off of pace,
Yet it still held me by my throat.
It’s nails biting into the skin of my neck-
I watched the present leave me behind.
Last night I was up until 3 in the morning.
I turned on a video from some streamer I used to watch
years ago,
and promised myself that I was doing better.
I’ve discovered I’m an amazing liar.
At least all those years ago I knew where I was headed.
Now, I’m facing this future that is too large for me to comprehend,
too open with possibilities for me to know the right path,
too scared to disappoint those that believe in me.
I was up until 3am biting my nails and lips-
tearing off the skin until my body burnt the same as my mind.
Last night I was up until 3 in the morning.
At what point is there so much caffeine in your blood that it ceases to be blood,
instead becoming a cesspool of your own insomnia?
I slipped out of my clothing,
only wearing what lie beneath,
and pulled out an old friend.
They had the habit of biting, of making you hurt-
but not once had that pain been anyone’s fault but my own.
Not deep- maybe an inch- but just enough to sting.
Enough to get under your skin.
It was too easy for a piece of thin metal to find its way into my body.
Like I said- an old friend.
Last night I was up until 3 in the morning.
I didn’t have a real reason-
I just couldn’t sleep.
When I finally forced my eyes shut-
they opened once more only a few whiles later.
My day began anew.
-
Author:
Kinsey Peterson (
Offline) - Published: June 24th, 2023 15:38
- Comment from author about the poem: Y'all istg I can only write decent poems when I want to die lol.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 10
Offline)
Comments3
Captivating write
That ain't no friend you have visiting
Your pen is
Raw and emotional
Great read
Not once have I ever claimed to like those I call my friends. 😉
But thank you for your kind words love.
Not once have I ever claimed to like those I call my friends. 😉
But thank you for your kind words love.
these words had a most profound effect upon this old soul of mine ..
I have now read and re-read them over and over and there is a haunting familiarity that I am almost too frightened to put my finger on .. nevertheless, I liked and very much the ink you shared today Joan ..
Neville
thank you my dear- your words always mean a lot
strange how misery and woe
inspire our most potent poetry
embolden us to share
those flows we would usually
be, too self-aware to reveal..
I laud your bravery
stay strong, dear Poet
thank you for the support Mek. It means the world.
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