Keep me up at Night

"Keep me up at Night", poem by: Erickson

The dark has a texture. 
The river bends around stars,
The crevices in the garage,
The thoughts;

It can be meddled with.
Played like putty.
Fiddled with a string.
I think;

It comes around after I distract myself. 

Dopamine fiends
Battle brightened screens and
Lessons in fairytales fail.

Van Gogh's night swirls into purple blue hues. 

The process of becoming one who thinks,
Or to think.
Is it a candle in a storm?
Or a cover from a boiling sun?

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