if the digital clock
could tick away
maybe there would be hope for some slumber.
instead, just the whine of the ancient a/c
red luminous numbers emblazoned
in my eye
mind
heart
the minutes are hours of knives whittling away
at the splinters
that are
all
that
is
left
of
this
maybe i could forget.
maybe i could convince myself that i want to forget.
maybe i could sell myself on convincing.
maybe i could reason myself into selling,
lull myself into reasoning,
push myself into lulling.
or else
just pray for more
dig in
to the lonely
with teeth and hands
eyes and ears
drink up the midnight
with full
bellowing
blasts
drown in the distance
stand on my feet,
fight tooth and nail,
fall through and land
back in the empty
echoing empty
the only sound here
is the thump, thump, thump
of a full heart
balancing the tin drum
of a second's passing.