Midnight
Midnight
12 am is a wonderous time, some start their days sitting at a cold bus stop as the thing air approaches their lips. Their hands crisped and folded, Ready or not they have to put them to work. Some are just going home, their bodies beaten by the time they come to their own realization of their routine. They try to push the narrative that their bodies and minds are ultimately connected but they arent.
Several tasked to be more than just a being that needs sleep, the whole itself isnt what they hope. The pieces are all there but at Midnight the possibilities are untethered, they call it the thinnest time between earth and soul, the rough approach to the day. The dew making its way to the grass as the sweat comes down their brow. Horror and delight all together with no sight.
Go to bed or to work or both, at midnight not just the start but the end, some fear it for they have to see what may come, the many sunsets they are not allowed to complain, sitting there eyes have bags that can take you no where, those who do nothing just walk the pavement have been turned into monsters in the blood shot eyes of those swarn not to judge, Fine lines and wrinkles can add character,range and wisdom. You dont seem to care. Have a good time via party, work, sleep or walk. Motions of midnight cannot be one thing.
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