In the deep of the night I cannot think and my mind lingers into cycles of endless dialogue. The person on the other end of my mental conversation is always me but who it represents always changes. Tonight and like nights before it is the same person. Cycling over my head what steps I will take next, the words I will speak, what questions to be asked. All of this stirs to the point where it upsets my natural sleep cycle and I listen to ambient music until sleep finally does arrive. Until then I talk and talk and share my thoughts and listen to this person which is myself but is someone completely different share theirs. I turn and turn until my head starts to itch and I feel lonely knowing the moon is too far and too obscure to see. Did you know I wanted to share its sight in fullness and shine with someone else I ask myself. Did you know I wanted to replace myself alone with its site for one in which I share it with someone else? Perhaps not, those words though thought and said were all within my mind.
The wall stays and I rest my bottom on its top and dangle my legs off. I can see the ground and I can see the grass which is greener on the other side. I do not leave my post nor do I retreat behind the wall. Instead I just wait and watch the horizon. What I wait for is probably someone but who I'm never too sure of. In the past it has taken on the form of many and ultimately they had failed just as much as I failed on them. Where I rest now is not a shear drop nor a painful one I just simply can't move from my spot. If one were brave enough one could give me a push or grab my hand and pull be down. I watch the sun set and the night take over. Here, in my mind, I can see the moon. There is no smog nor an ominous cloud to obscure it. I am out in the country and running free. Of course I am just sleeping and what wonderful sleep it be. But the truth remains I am still sitting idle on that wall which rises not much nor too little and I feel too comfortable doing so. The worst part of it is that I can't help it, as if my buttock has turned to brick. All I want to do is tear it down and split and crumble the brick. All I want to do is escape, to disappear, to forget, will a brick come flying at my head and bam, I forget, I really did forget.
The moon sings, "Not Until The Time Is Just-A Right, (Tonight-Tonight), Not Until the Time Is Just-A Right!".