at 3 a.m., she was in her nightgown, Dad was asleep. looking over his shoulder. What's going on? she asked. Who wants to kill you? He looked over his shoulder. The devil does. Look at him, over there. She asked, What are you on? Who wants to kill you? The sky wasn’t black or blue but the green of a dying night. The devil, look at him, over there.

2 天之前 · this dead street is friction, rust copper light sitting, in front a closed store. two men knuckle cigarette, clutching knives in eye. glance at passer-by. the smoke is walking, speaking. quieter now, in the beat of dark, it is brisk, dim in frustration. and the drain, runs dry. a weed in its cracks won’t grow, till it brims red. — get off this street, 3 am is dead man hour.

‘ My Brother at 3 A.M. ‘ by Natalie Diaz describes a terrifying night in which a mother discovers her son on the front porch and witnesses his transformation. The poem begins with the mother of the speaker and the main character, leaving the house at 3 a.m. to find her son on the porch.

He sat cross-legged, weeping on the steps when Mom unlocked and opened the front door. O God, he said, O God. He wants to kill me, Mom. When Mom unlocked and opened the front door at 3 a.m., she was in her nightgown, Dad was asleep. He wants to kill me, he told her, looking over his shoulder. 3 a.m. and in her nightgown, Dad asleep,

I felt free. i felt like everything and anything that I was worrying about dissappeared. I was breaking boundaries that I used to be afraid to even touch Ive experienced 1am but 3 am is so much more exciting. it was asif I belonged out there in …

Each of these visual poems is an expression of a complex emotion otherwise inexplicable without the layered details of collage. Using remnants of old magazines, newspapers, and books, each snipping gets a second life, composited in a new moment of …

There is poetry all around us and we are narrators, story-tellers, explorers of the human condition. It begins before we know it and the power of words can change the world. Emotions are expressions, as fleeting as a cloud on a windy day. As sullen as a stormy sky and as awe inspiring as a sunset or sunrise.

3AM thoughts are not a thing of beauty. 3AM thoughts haunt you. They do not care if you have school the next day. They do not care if you have to wake up early the next day. Hell, they do not care if you've stayed up the past week because of them. 3AM thoughts are romanticized. They are not something you want. They are not something you need.

2022年12月5日 · Chicago and the attendant doesn’t know that Third Mesa is a part of the center of the world and who are we just two Indians at three in the morning trying to find a way back and then I remembered that time Simon took a Yellow Cab out to Acoma from Albuquerque a twenty-five dollar ride to the center of himself 3 A.M. is not too late to find ...

The noises are getting to me; I keep hearing footsteps, Knocking; Sounds in the pool of depth; My thoughts all seem to be one fuzzy channel; It’s 3 am, Once again the psychos and creeps that wonder my mind are screaming their testimonies; “The pain will never end,” Burning sensation of a knife gliding across,