'Tis not yet four but it'll soon be.

Some days I collapse from fatigue at four in the morning

And some days I get so freaked out
I awaken at four.

Either way...


I have this perpetual look of exhaustion coupled with a strange form of alertness now.

It's like your eyes are sunken in,
The dark circles foreboding and revealing,
The veins in the whites of your eyes tell a story;

And the rest of your face looks focused, at attention,
Because your lips are quirky at the corners and your skin looks rested,
You have a gaze that seems to drink in everything: because you are, you're trying to memorise so much;

And adrenaline keeps you going.


The crash from that rush-
Worse than sugar or caffeine-

Is dizzyness that takes away your conscience for a little while.

Few seconds,
And you're back
But even sitting down makes you feel so much more rested.





Right now,
'Tis not yet four but it'll soon be,
As always-

I need to stop screwing myself in this way,

But it's hardly a choice anymore.