It's 11:54 p.m.

The rain is falling down
in steady sheets
like covers to blanket the ground.

I sit and I stare
and I wonder where
my legs and my arms could have gone.

I wonder why the colours are blurred
and the white parchment sits blank beside.
I wonder what you are dreaming about
or if you are dreaming at all.

My body shakes
with raw desire
stagnant in this cold lonely room
taste it in the air, reach out your tongue
and try to tell me it is not there.

It's 11:57
and I can't keep counting
I should go and wash myself.

And roll into blankets
freezing and bland
like the ice on my doorstep tonight.
It's 12:00 a.m.