It’s 12:36 am.

I’m sitting up again.
I can hear cars 
filled with lonely people
pass slowly outside my window. 
The light from the fire detector 
flashes every thirty seconds.
I like to sit and watch it
trying to time out each flash in my head.
Lately the future has been asking me out
seducing me with fantasies and
cheap poetry that falls face first 
without ever hitting my lips. 
Dreams thought up six years ago
suddenly are lined up begging
for me to choose which will go on.
Time has passed without warning
no count down before the bomb.
I was never promised days, weeks, or years
in a matter of a moment, life ceases to exist
leaving you with one final permanent memory
of someone and that’s it. 
Delicate ideas once shared between friends
now chase me at night
asking why I am living in regret.
What should I tell them.
I’m up again for the 123rd time
thinking about how many days I have left
my fears projected like shadow puppets
on my walls.
I let go of desires that I wanted
some days still want
in order to chase a version of myself
what happens when our days lose meaning
when the things that keep us up at night
disappear into the dust of the past
without ever fully leaving our minds. 
I am stuck staring into the dark
thinking about how I got here
this stillness that haunts me 
romances me into lying to my heart 
makeshift feelings held together by loneliness.
Light sneaks through my blinds occasionally 
to remind me I’m still alive.
It’s 1 am now.
What next.