wind beyond the window

when i stir in the night, the world tilts on its axis

it is not a sight, but a feeling

a third eye opening

unveiling nothing but the dark

it is a strange, warped place here

beyond the throb of pulses and planes, of uneventful nightlife

oh, non-factor staten island

you’d think such an unimportant burrow

would find the time to sleep

but something

someone

is always awake, always lingering near

always rushing, never dragging, yet always

on the brink

of falling down

down, down

i want to stay curled up, asleep and away

thoughts and feelings tucked tight and close to my chest

but something often tends to pull me awake

a sound, perhaps

or a voice outside, or in my head

and my feet swing over with ease

always finding the carpeted floor

scratchy and soft beneath me

all places beyond it a threat

but the world is quiet here

from the precipice of this dim-lit attic

and the twilight breathes a sweet melody

outside my window, one of birds and

the rush of cars, of the pumped up people

still shouting, laughing—alive, below

even when all else

halts

alas, my heart sings a different song

a melancholy hum i can’t quite shake

too much of the time now

and the comfort of the night is not enough

to drain this dread from my soul

to fill my heart with something worth living for

something new

to save me

the people down below are effortlessly human

legs moving, striving forward, striving towards

walking, blaring music, cursing, sweating,

screaming, crying, connecting people

living without even trying

alight and alive, strong and loud and proud

yet i am a ghost within my own walls

and the wind beyond the windows

steers clear

and does not rattle my hollow bones

-

The moment I typed the word rushing, I had to use dragging too. Whiplash reference, if anyone knows what I’m talking about.

Thank you for reading! ♥️