Because I Was Wide Awake at 3:27

Poetry 0 comments

It is 3:27 am

and you are in my bloodstream again.

i do not even know your name

but i know you are red

because every time you

Come Back

you pour out of me,

you make your presence known.

i do not know what this is

this Down between the Ups

and all that i know is that i don’t like it

how my vocal chords intertwine

like sticks of a robin’s nest

how my hands crack and flake

like shells of a robin’s egg.

This is not blue

this is purple

this is not black

this is grey

this is not bad

this is

m i s

and the police have given up on the investigation.

i am alone in the


and i am awake in the


and i stopped calling myself

“I” a long time ago

because i don’t see me as a

person worthy of capitalization anymore.

just a hurdle that I

somehow have to duck through


oh god how

did i let it get




yet still

i know

that the cold blue tunnels of my veins

will meet

with the warm red chambers of my capillaries

and it will be terrifying to go

deeper within


but maybe

it will be worth the pain.

i am armed with nothing but a flashlight

that only works when you hit it

and all i can find to

hit it on is



but still i am going

still i am trying

still here i am.

i have no idea where “here” is

but i know i am on the run

train tracks once buzzing

now serve as my sanctuary.

the only roar now

is the roar of my inhalations

gentle goes the breeze

gentle goes the


and i’ve fallen

and i’m bleeding

but i know just what to do

and i’ve broken

and i’ve screamed

but i know just who i am.

because somewhere

in the left atrium of my heart

there was a treasure chest

and i grated all the rust off

my fingernails and i jammed

them into the


and inside

was my voice.

i did not even know i had lost it until i had found it again.

so this is the part

at 3:27 pm

where I enter my own bloodstream again.

this is the part

where people start to hate me

because they don’t like

the sound of my voice

but i don’t mind

for now they

know I am here.

this is the part where

i become I again and

I float above the clouds of condensated

insecurity and

I sing from the stars that

I am alive

and I don’t care if you despise what I say

because I believe in it

and I don’t care if I don’t have a model body

because I have a model soul

and I don’t care if you roll your eyes

because mine are wide open

and I don’t care if you don’t understand

for every word I tattoo onto my scalp makes perfect sense to me

and I don’t care if I never find heaven

because everything is beautiful

after you’ve spent 4 years in hell.

This Is Who I Am.

Author lifebylexi

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