Ff Poem by Hunter James

Its 2 am, cigarette loosely hangs from your bottom lip and hands are dug in jacket pocket. The stars aren't out, they're never out in the city, of course. You’re the only one awake, everyone else is asleep, peacefully dreaming. Its Tuesday, of course. You come to the agreement that life is crazy, just like last night, and the night before. Though its different tonight, of course. The atmosphere is slightly altered, same ideas different clarity. Your awakened now, this is the real world. Unlike yesterday and tomorrow.
Of course these ideas are worn and unoriginal. But they aren't as it goes.
You shake your head and mutter, its so obvious of course. Everyone else is blind, obviously. Your eyes have just the right amount of sleep behind them, apparently triggering the dream chemicals. Last night you stood right here, you muttered and you paced, and you realised that you had a discovery. All the same as every other night of course, though a discovery none the less.
Maybe everyone knows this secret as well, they just act it out. Like you. Maybe not. Maybe you’re a genius, maybe you should report to the papers immediately. Press conferences and all. Maybe you should write a book. Inform the world, tell your parents and your neighbours. However tomorrow tells you something different of course, knew revelations.
'Where are the stars and the night walkers anyways? ' you think. Are they out in secret too? Or merely sleeping like you presume.

Life is crazy you conclude as you dropp your cigarette to your toes and stare out at the uh, clouds.