quick

twilight
when the sun falls under the horizon
when the sky darkens
moon rises, stars alight;
there is no REM
eyelids are poised open
and grasshoppers
maybe distant static
is the only sound whispered in your ear.

it's madness in it's own form
but it's your only
escape.

at times,
rhythmic beats will create a pattern
within your toes
within your arms, sinew and muscle
within your mind
and all you hear is rushing
a river passing,
blood,
and all you hear is
the beat.

at times,
the beat stutters
or maybe gets too loud
and, off track
confused, maybe
frightened
you will try to find your way back
and you will succeed.
every. time.

and if it ever were to end
it would not be your doing.

sometimes,
you look too far ahead
and you wonder how things change
from one side to another
and you fear for something wonderful
because you are afraid of losing it.

often,
you'll disguise the indistinguishable
but off the radar it stays
and you whisper it
into keyboard, into ears

just soft enough so no one hears.

a lost voice,
something you can lose without having
speech is lost under quick fingers
and red cheeks, beating hearts.
you have strength in expression
just only when it's silent.