By Declan Quinn

It’s 2 a.m.

Where I am

my room is lonely;

Its light is the only one

that glares out at the dark street

the empty street

 

Tired, but I continue to stare;

stare at the ceiling

stare at the wall

stare into the artificial light

that bathes the room in its

fake glow

 

2 a.m. is a lonely time

because time stands still

like I stand still

when I’m all alone

 

I’m tired,

but why should I sleep?

Sleep is for everyone else

the ones that need to wake up

the ones that have a reason to wake up

 

And I don’t have that reason.

 

And, so it’s 2 a.m.,

and I’ll stay awake.

The computer screen will flicker

reminiscent of a candle,

waving wildly in the whispering wind

as that same wind whispers into my ear

telling me to stay awake

compelling me to complete mindless tasks

because the real ones

are left to the real people

with real lives

doing real things.

 

“I am not a real person”

It tells me.  I tell me.

“so stay awake.”

 

It’s 3:28 a.m. now

the feeling is gone

the facade is back up

 

Another 2 a.m. will come.

I’ll feel this way again.

 

But that’s okay.  I’m tired now.

 

Maybe I’ll go to bed.