When I slept alone the same feeling always came over me.
Before the dreams started playing I’d become paranoid.
There was somebody in the room, I thought.
But nobody was ever there.
I’d sink into another stage of slumber, then wake up paranoid again.
This time I’d think of death.
The finality of it terrified me.
My mind wandered.
It begins to think that everything around me will die.
My loved ones.
It’ll happen for everyone and everything and when it does, it’ll be a surprise every time.
Like we never saw it coming.
We knew it was there though.
Staring all day.
All our life.
There was never any endorphin trip in my head that came afterward to console me either.
All I’d do is think about the Final Black.
How I’d probably try to grab hold of life – searching for an immortality not one person who has ever lived found.
Those odds were against me and I was going to have to give into it.
The next morning I’d wake up without any thought of the death or the paranoia.
My day will begin, and from there it’s just a countdown until the night’s rituals come out to haunt.
Joseph is a writer from Long Island, NY. He writes new poetry daily on his Instagram page.