4am.

Nothing is good enough:

Not at 4am.

Not when you’re tuning yourself off in favor of getting it done.

Not when the insurmountable tomorrow is what you know you’ll wake up to.

Nothing is good enough:

Not my body,

Not my brains,

Not my spirit,

Not my past,

My wits

My humor

My quality.

Nothing is good enough.

Not even you, anymore.

Not even sleep, at 4am, is good enough.

So as I lay me down to sleep,

I’ll hate you

Like I hate me

And I’ll hate every moment until I’m unconscious.

And when the alarm tears me awake in the morning,

I’ll realize that 4am is a very unholy place to be.