The Hours

at 1:32 am what I've
not made room for
arrives like a rip tide

insistent, deeper
than the hours moving
as slowly as a world
I can't feel turn

things said and not heard
carry on conversations
I'm only here to witness

in the stillness
my heart grows irregular
beats in time with
an unresolved chaos

lost in the circular,
hopeless drag of analysis,
dawn creeps towards me

I drift off to dream
of letting go, of making room
for nothing to be done