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it is not til I am asleep that I can hear it, like a distant animal, it awakens me. this solitude that does not confront me in the daylight comes with the high moon to spite me a vampire with blood rage thirsting it eats away at the happiness not allowing for truth the reality that some things are best forgotten shackled to amensia locked away in a tomb of forgotten and in my catacombs of sleep I miss you so much though I never knew you nor you me but I can feel it there like an insect bite healing and I want it to heal but I need it to hurt so I can remember that there is something worthy of memory