In the wee hours, in the darkness,

time creeps

so every ache and thought magnify,

stand still.

 

What is it, each sensation,

more than what it is?  Itself!

A manner of speaking 

along neural corridors

signalling: Do Something

to alleviate this!

How attention zooms in, focused,

highlighting every detail, moment.

The blessed oblivion of sleep, no option.

Why do we call it pain

when it is just a quanta of relevant information

expressly delivered?

The filtering through of yesterdays 

years 

- intentions, doings, omissions -

into the four-square stuffs

of this dimension,

manifest in bone and brawn

in screaming nerves

and the undying now.

 

Oct