Walking through a darkened house

There is a moment in sleeplessness that I find myself;

when the flirting drowsiness has faded and the wretched, twitching mania has 

subsided.

I stop feeling my own fingernails clawing over me,
I stop looking for the next sign of worth,

I stop cursing the birds flight and the dogs life of ease

and I stop dreading the silence of each darkened room

as I creak among the floorboards.

When I've stopped trying to find-

I am found.

I am found in the dark with eyes closed;

records spread out- carefully chosen albums of regret and triumph;
but none on the player.

I am found among

piles of notes straightened into yellow towers,
all of them scribbled with great intent

though, none worth remembering.

I'm found when the rain taps a paltry 'hello' at 5 am,
hovers momentarily over this particular address,
then washes away a moment later,
unamused.

I am found when, all at once, I feel the warmth of words in my heart, and they
pour like blood through my outstretched fingers
and pool together in front of me.

I am found when my hands stop shaking and my

eyes begin to see white dots bobbing in the haze of a mew morning.

I am found when I think of you.

I am found for that one moment

when I forget myself.

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