Twelve Thirty Four
Dawg
Thirty-four minutes after midnight
and sweat runs down my brow.
Another restless night
has become the norm somehow.
I’ll lie awake for hours
watching the day drift away,
letting the sun set without stirring,
time slipping like it always does.
Mind wanders to darkened places
where shadows dance and play.
Lost in a heavy haze,
the days just float away.
I can’t grasp the meaning of it all,
thoughts stretching beyond belief —
questioning my very life,
my faith, my core, my grief.
Waiting for the phone to ring,
searching for a certain name
that could finally clear the doubts
that plague my every frame.
I touch the bandage on my arm
where the needle made its mark,
replaying words from doctors,
letting fear ignite the dark.
“We found something unusual.
We need to test some more.
No cause for alarm —
we just want to be sure.”
The nightmares and the panic rise.
Waiting to learn my fate.
Scared to know, scared not to know.
Fear that it may be too late.
I never understood the phrase
“The future’s not what it used to be.”
Just a puzzling set of words
that never made much sense to me.
But lying here in a fog of thought,
it seems to fit just right.
No matter the outcome now,
I’ll be altered by this night.
I ponder everything at once,
replaying moments lost to time,
watching memories pile up,
regret and remorse climb.
Another minute ticks away.
Another sun fades out somewhere.
Waiting for an answer.
Paralyzed by fear.