Louie Caulson

At Night

As dark draws and the curtains also,
The second 12 hour lapse means I'm a double uglier
Bits of me get carried away with the sun,
My head, my heart, my chest, the other side of my face,
I feel patchy and the bits that have stayed to reside, to shelter,
Surely get poisoned by a plague that weights in my head all day,
Does it hide inside my 4 walls?
Until the day-time me is scattered into stardust, a mess of a river,
with a golden-nugget littered bed,
It cannot be used until 3 am.
To tired to beat myself up, to tired to clean up blood.
I have no one to thank but my own procrastination and laziness,
And my imagination; your arms felt so nice.
I'm welcome, anytime.

Submitted: Friday, March 21, 2014
Edited: Saturday, March 22, 2014

Topic of this poem: alone

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