Receiving Angry Messages In the Dark of a Turbulent Night

it’s 2:48 AM.
and i am awakened.
by the sound of the buzz of my phone.
vibrating once.
on the face.
of the wooden nightstand.
to the left of my bed.
i roll over.

i had been dreaming.
dreaming.
but am not unhappy.
to have departed that.
cold world:
driving.
on ice.
up and up a snow-covered.
winding.
mountain pass.

something in me.
told me.
i would never make it.
if i did.
i’d not ever.
come back down.
something in me kept on.
driving. pushing. hoping.
driving.
all the same.

but now awake:
this waking could be.
sleeping.
for all of its cruel absurdity.
the kind of dream.
you wish to.
escape.
as the wind outside.
shakes this house.
violent.

as the fledgling mid-night moment.
shakes me.
nothing feels the same.
in the dark.
as in light.

and the scene of the day.
is altered. altered. altered.
altered.
by lurching echoing tremors.
of night.

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