Jordan Dobrowski

I’ll stay up hours to burn up the midnight fuel within my core and drown out the nerved voice inside that is never content. Like breaking a fever, I either run it rampant, or it will run me dry. I put it through training; break it like a brick-headed teen sent to boot. I attempt to master such monsters within, but in the end, I wonder if it’s they who win yet. So I move forward, and try again. Another night spent in silent business;another afternoon breathing in the dark of daylight through a small gap in the brick. Perhaps I am the monster waiting to be tamed. Perhaps it’s my own consciousness that betrays me. Per happenstance of irony, perhaps may be my poison. I get drunk on the possibilities. I find myself wasted in the could. Sober me to reality. Silence the howling winds of my mind.