Midnight in my heart
Comes neither too early
Nor too late in my despair.
In calmer moments, I can catch
And dissect my own terror:
The otherness of people; our lives bound inextricably;
The ceaseless aching.

O, Fear, everglow,
An ether through which space and time inexplicably move
A single body carrying in it a consciousness
 scarred by superstition, that prays
And spits the name of god from her mouth--
The constancy of self notwithstanding,
We are all drifting, drifting further,
And the fissures, driven deeper
Under force of self loathing, jealousy, anxiety, hate.

At once, I recoil at the emptiness
Of the hole I fashioned inside myself,
But could never hope to fill.