Dawning Creations

330 a.m., our bewitching hour,
I’m laying wide awake.
Tossing and turning doesn’t cease
and my belly aches.
Some things will only change with time,
or not.
I want this so badly
it’s painful
but so simple.

Connection.

Pacing in the break room,
wondering if you’re awake, too.
I pass through the automatic doors,
the smell of bread and Christmas past
lingering in the air surrounding me.

I know you’re what typically comes next.
I’m lost for a moment,
though, I don’t know why.

It’s as of I’m trapped in a web.
I’m trapped in a pleasurable prison.
I want to stay in the light,
let it encompass me,
take me in wholly.

There are other hits.
There are other cravings met.
I don’t do drugs,
don’t inhale smoke
but I feel a craving much stronger,
much more sinister
but not, simultaneously.

It’s only dangerous in the way I “need” it.
Courtney says to try to find it on my own.
God knows, I’m trying
but I’m terrified
it’ll all end
and I’ll be just….
just…

Disconnected