I Stay Up Late Sometimes
I stay up late sometimes.
I stay up and cry.
I stay up and fight.
I stay up and stare at the black emptiness of my room
And wonder
why I painted it white
if it would still be dark through the night
why we use lights
if we just turn them off when the sun goes down
I stay up sometimes
I think of the blood rushing through my heart
the neurons firing in my brain
making me think
I think about my mother’s God
I think about the people that died that day
what they thought about before it happened
I think about the people in prison
What sorts of things they had to do to get there
Sometimes I stay up late
and I think about what what you’re thinking about
if it’s me
or someone else
I think about how surprised I would be if it was me
and how sad that is
I think about war
and hunger
and how utterly powerless I am
just thinking about it
I think about writing
sometimes I do it
Most of the time I don’t
I think about how sad that is
Sometimes I stay up
and sometimes I cry
sometimes I fight.
Most times, I just
stay
up.