This Eternal Midnight
Rehearsing what I want to say when I wake up, I feel a bit like a broken record. The way the needle jumps in and out of the groove. But it’s not even like a skipping drum beat or a repeating lyric, it’s a cacophony of flits and hops buried underneath a wave of static. Each time it comes around again, I can sense the pattern is about to repeat itself, and I think the words are going to finally come through... but they don’t. It's just another disappointment. I wonder, maybe, if I try to see things from a different angle; try to think of things from an alternative perspective, then maybe (just maybe?) the signal can separate from the noise and everything will be clear.
It’s the middle of the night and I can't sleep again. My body’s tired but I’ve got a hundred million thoughts flowing through my mind like some neural superhighway. I look up at the ceiling and try to make out any sort of meaningful shapes from the shadows. Over time, I can’t tell if they are moving or if I’m just imagining the whole thing. In the background, that almost inaudible din comes around again. Repeating endlessly. Bobbing and weaving, like an acoustic buoy, playing in sync with the shadows. These days, it seems so many things lay broken on the side of the road. Discarded and forgotten; left to be weathered over time. Yet here, in this eternal midnight, I can't stop trying to fix it all. Sometimes I wonder, at times like this, if I’m even really awake.