Nights Go By

Lately it seems as if my heartbeat has been replaced by new memories that feel like anniversaries of older ones. A temporary suicide of choice, in a set moment of not knowing the difference between arrival and departure.

What I saw yesterday does not mean I will see it again tomorrow.

So curled up into a ball at 3am, my thoughts float above me as I scribe into an empty space in-between. I feel stuck in someone else's circumstance, in an arbitrary kingdom where walls contour around me; all exits leading to rejection.

There's no room to languish though. As I scratch around for meaning, things speak for themselves. They want to change their forms and be something else. We don't end with our skin either. We end up in these things we make.