The Making of an Unknown Emotion

I sit as light wanes 

But rain remains a staple 

On my skin keeping me stuck to the bleachers I begin to wonder

if the rain feels the same on your skin as it does on mine 

The night envelops me 

Like an eye blinking 

The reflection of day still burning 

Its shadows played out on the wall of the lid like an ancient tribal ceremony 

Illuminating shadows of the past 

Present future, but still

I don't understand why I prey on your memory like a vulture- 

And as the day rests its mind all of its interactions are internalized, 

Transferring control to the subconscious to compartmentalize them 

Its events bouncing on the wall of the id until they are lunatics 

In a communal confinement cell of memory foam