The 4 AM

a collection of poems and game written at 4 a.m. using voice note in hopes to capture whatever it is the ghosts of the 4 a.m.

The echoes of the last dream before I wake up linger on.

I feel like no sleep has been had, yet still unrestive, like I must live a lifetime, in the span of a breath. Multiple versions of me have died tonight.

I, like the echoes of my dreams,

linger on.

The phone screen's cool surface light burns my eyes. The tears make way for whatever there is to read on twitter, insta, facebook, twitter-insta-facebook

I flick through this cycle

almost prayer like

like my dreams

linger on