It's lonely when your mind is caught in a painting or a memory, you have everything but the words to describe it. Often I lay awake at night letting my mind bounce off the walls and roll through the colors. Somewhere along the way I forgot how to let it out. I once knew the way to stare out a window, the way that would energize me.

Maybe my attention doesn't have a disorder. Perhaps it has wandering feet or it's wings just need stretching. Did the world captured me in a mason jar just to hold me? Will I wait behind the glass to die? I must find a way out to feel the sun on my skin, I want to feel what is really there.

The weight of time is pressing my skin until it just folds. Perhaps there's a few buried secrets beneath the rolling hills on my hands, somewhere underneath it all I find myself. When I was really little I would listen for the hum of my mothers voice in the other room to fall asleep, it reminded me that the day was not over yet. There was this comfort in knowing I was not leaving for dreams alone.

It was always right before I fell asleep when I’d get that late night call. An old lover never calls during the day, always at night. The darkness has a way of cutting everyone down. It’s at the end of the day when you remember all the things that you really wanted to do but forgot. It’s a sting I hate to feel, every night.