416

Four-sixteen, the four AM scream
the wordless faces in fever dreams
the dull dark things you swore would never worry you:
rent and crime, the directionless of life
and how it keeps you up, and how it steals your nights
that directionless longing that keeps you awake
that guitar-string-tight-neverending-ache
of answerless questions and moonless tides
the way that you worry that your feelings aren’t right
Four-sixteen, the four AM scream
the sky getting light in a helpless stream

and finally a misstep of your racing mind
and you slip into sleep almost by accident
almost a betrayal of the nighttime spent
the peace – it’s almost unkind

 

— Notes —
This is a sort of rap/ poem/ beat-poem? that I just whipped off. It sounds better when you kinda rap it. Awful but a necessary exercise. Don’t copy it.

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