The Magic Time

garish green digits glare from behind a plastic screen and twilight's the Magic Time when no one hears my screams. the stars are too piercing and even moonlight's too bright on these nights when all i want to do is sleep but sleep is too easy and life is too hard so i end up playing with these shards of the broken glass fragments of my mind the fall-out from the warring tribes that have conquered my consciousness shaped my brain into a tool with which to poke and stab the other side in this fight where the rules are only that you never sleep cuz sleep leads to complacency and contentment is never found when these tribes take up residency on the battlefield, battleground location of my mind where i can still find those broken glass fragments, these remnants of what a little girl there once was but mirrors and picture frames are meant to be broken and clocks should never do anything but stop. so when garish green digits glare from behind a plastic screen i can remember that time is immeasurable and sleep is on the losing team where "shut-eye" and "sweet dreams" can never repair the seam that already is ripped and so i sift through those shards to find a last sharp-edged echo of a silent, Magic Time scream.