the common language: something that sits uneasy on your tongue--- moonbeams darting through blinds and the jagged walls crawling forward on hands and knees--- hands and knees screwed on too loose, hit the floorboards like the heavy thump of footsteps; and all of a sudden the night is pitch and so black so huge a run-on sentence above below around, and there, the moon like the last sliver of light through the keyhole before the dark opens its great maw and begins to feast--- and something sits uneasy on your tongue and shivers from the cavity behind your eyes, and it's something something but it's climbing away from me now.
sometimes it's one in the morning and i'm too scared to sleep because it feels like tomorrow is caught in a car speeding farther away the longer i stay awake, like the darkness of the night is tightening around me every second that passes and it's going to consume me now. like i've realized all the yesterdays were never real and now that the illusion is broken tomorrow can never come, so i'll be stuck laying on my side in the tightening darkness until i dissolve away. this is a poem about that. honestly i'm not sure if it fits the prompt but existentialism has to be pretty universal, so.