blood suckers hide beneath my bed

you avoid what is in front of you,

you neglect your past.

the things that most hold dear,

you let go of because of selfishness.

you stare into the moon, wishing it would stay,

convincing yourself that its brimming light

could lead to manifestation.

you taste the dew of early morning hours,

wondering about the excitement you'd feel

if a mist like this had a sweet, sugary flavor.

the irony of sadness and contentment in the sole activity

you partake in,

it convinces you of an outer body experience,

tingling,

chilling,

satisfying.

you hold yourself in your very own

thoughts and ideas

you see them in your mind as constellations;

stars bouncing, creating merely translucent lines that criss-cross

and lay parallel to one another.

you are incredibly enveloped,

there is no need for pen and paper.

you keep and retain,

keep and maintain.

it is all in your mind,

the philosophies you practice,

the ones that you create.

divinity in the veins,

reflection in the water.

reflection in the skin.

reflection in all that has touched you and

all that you have touched.

upon your return,

it may not feel this way.

this moment as a permanent keepsake,

you've burned your structure down

to begin a new.

to see the sun in the same light as the moon

and understand your fate as it is brought upon you.