Middle of the Night

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night
and see ghosts. I see a window, and a desk, and
a door.

I’m still there.

I feel sorry for myself. There’s a gaunt man in
the mirror. I’m not sure

if he’s me.

They’re talking about digging
shallow graves so that if you
die young you could rise
from the ashes.

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night
and there’s silence slinking in the creaks of my bed
and I ask her where we are right now
and she tells me we are nowhere right now
and I remember from the night before
how the stairs went up to oblivion
and how scintillating Manhattan was.
And how I feel sorry for myself
because I’m nowhere right now.

And how I feel sorry for myself for
feeling sorry for myself for feeling sorry for
myself for feeling sorry for myself
for feeling sorry.

The one thing I recall from there
are the nights. Carrot-clouded nights
and suave white lights, downhill streets
and swinging on stars and
eating red moon citrus and
fire crickets rising in smoke puffs above my roof
and there’s a soft, surreptitious
whisper from the darkness of trees,
like a ghost, or like the man
that I found in my mirror.

this is really pretty, but what is it about??
the stanzas don't really pull together and explain your thoughts

"I ask her where we are right now

and she tells me we are nowhere right now"
who is she? why are you nowhere?

could you make it clearer?

well, truly..? the poem isn't so clear =\

it reminds my poem i once wrote, because of the illusion of the ghost and the men in the morror, so here it is:


With no reflection

Looking in the mirror –
There is no reflection,
I'm too lost in the maze
That I once built.

Who is this person
That's standing here in front of me?
Who is this petty creature
That's staring in this scary way at me?

Been living in an illusion,
Walking in a wrong road,
I know nobody,
I don't even know myself.

Guess I was wrong
By chasing after stardust,
Guess I was wrong
By believing in a dream.

Now that I'm lost
The only thing that's left
Is hoping…that someone
Will ever find me and set free.

Now that I learnt the lesson
I will never ever
Let someone change me
Into somebody but the real me.

written by beyond the mask (me : ] )

(i know it's a little bit shallow, but o wrote it almost an year ago so hh)


i really liked the last stanza, especially these two lines:

"like a ghost, or like the man

that I found in my mirror."

well, i think you should make your poem a little bit clearer or at least explain what you meant here..(?)

wish you a great week