Daydreaming Before Dawn

Up, past sleep, we have found ourselves
existing somewhere we do not.
Heads make pillows of other things,
shoulders and intimate conversations.

Nothing is fixed, walls fall away,
time slips to the floor. Here
at our feet is the night.
We stumble round words,
half expressed. We are cocooned.

Worries seep into cracks. The dark flickers,
something moves where nothing breathes,
paranoia rinses the skin. Sideways glances
pull back my thoughts, the tick of the clock.
I have been here for hours.

Reality is coffee.
We are far from the break
of day, we will not think.
Thoughts are feathers in a storm.
We succumb, we will not struggle.
Movement is up hill,
and we are coming down.