It's 3am And I'm....

It's 3 am and the buzzing’s aroused me again. The maniacal sounds of dreams bedbugs burrowing a clock under my skin. But it’s not really real, not as real as it seems. Just some over zealous nightmares from a dream that I dreamed.

It leads me to the stairs and headfirst into a hole, where 100 dancing rabbits of all colors taunt my soul. I might get out alive if I relinquish all control and never say a word about these reoccurring rabbit hole’s .

Something new grabs my attention and I turn around amazed, I’m standing naked as a jay bird, in the first row, center stage. In front of god and everyone, his entire holy crew. Belting out unending stanzas of “I see the moon, do you?”

Helplessly I am held captive, with no chains here in my bed. The fear inside my head make me believe the lies it likes to spread. If my feet would touch the floor, in an attempt make it end, the floor would quickly turn to lava, and in an instant I’d be dead. Or at the very least, my teeth and fingers would be claimed, sold off for Insta status, where unfiltered pictures get displayed.

Without the proper words to say I’m now meowing like a cat, admitting that the fates hold all the cards, my tongue my hat. And it spreads rumors in a mill and smears the sweat upon my brow, redefining all the meanings of what, when where and how.

I'm held hostage to its bidding, as it gives me its demands. Set on repeat, I thoughtlessly follow everything that it commands.

The pendulum swings, uncontrollably flings, rearranging my room and a flurry of dreams. It offers release charging exorbitant fees, before releasing the screams that I now need to scream.

The ones I’ve employed to drown out the noise and those loud fickle voices of unbearable choice. Nightly revisiting constantly fidgeting until I admit that I’ve lost myself imagining. Picking and needling, convincingly telling me that there was never a time anyone wanted me

Then, the silence creeps in, silently silencing me, again.

It’s now 3:08, and I can feel the weight the unmistakable wait of the world. You know the power, the weight of an hour, as each moment quickly unfurls. A palpable weight, weighing heavily on my gate, on my mind and the soft tender lining of my tequila shot eyes.

I await the illusions that are sure to appear, along with the double visions created for me, on the walls. Wildly dancing like water pools, on my ceiling, until the unsinkable sinkholes of doubt steal away any feeling about….

A surreal scene seen, through beautifully broken stained glass, until it all disappears and eventually passes.

Squinting into the darkness, through the shadows I see, another side of myself, a new version of me. Desperately trying to help me set us free.

A familiar figure, changing the locks, leading me right past the distorted clocks. Watching the watches with no face, hands or feet, but still ticking the same claiming their power ore me, as I cower completely, all alone in my sheets.

Incomplete doubting, tossing, turning and drowning in a drop all consuming miles away from the sea. The serene scene is part of what’s seen so what could’ve been and is, a believed make believe

Continually trying to relive in a dream, a sacred shallow memory of what has already been.

A moment lost to the shadows

The ones hiding in corners

Kept just out of sight, out of reach, out of order.

It's 3 am and my mind's taken over

wiping cobwebs from pages I thought I had expired.

Stirring emotions and embers of lovers reigniting the storms of the lost distant fires

keeping me frozen, fanning phantom flames, just to get closure from those blaming games

All of these dreams around 3, flying around in my head are just musings remembered from something that I’ve read