poem #4: no o'clock in the morn

the 3 o'clock hour
strikes
and hits real hard
i
just
cant
sleep
out of my mind
out of my body
experiencing
tears torn in my astral fabric
of repetitive dreams
cycling underwater
backstroking through clouds
ass backwards
feelings so real
that i awake
tears like flowing milk
without my honey
no o'clock
in the morning
eyes wide
seeing nothing
except
the lonely...
except
the void...
except
me...
here
to travel
through mental states
searching for a place
to live without you
i
cant...
i only pray
that every day
gets me closer
to closure
nearer
to understanding
further
from the frustrating
flustering
fucking
pain
i beg
for sleep
in the wake of you
i crave
to never yearn
never long
never need
never...
fucking...
care...
that you're gone
somewhere
not caring
about me
the 4 o'clock hour
hits
and i'm still here
waiting
for time
to fast forward
just so
i can sleep

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