Wee Hours

In the wee hours...
right after a session of masturbation,and
right before a session of contemplation  
I am here...wandering...drifting  
on a sea of discontent...as I pull at the gray
hairs sprouting out of my widows peak.
 
Laying awake in a haze of angst,as I listen
to the night creatures call and woo one another.
In the wee hours... a soul can feel vulnerable
and bare as the introspective light of my mind
puts a glare on reasonable thinking...and  
like quicksand...my thoughts keep sinking
 
Sinking into my tender spots...the ones that
cant be soothed at least not with my own hand
as I realize that I am not a superhero after all
 
I am merely a jumble of flesh and all- too- easily
broken bones that creak...and ache...and echo
my loneliness.
Here...in the wee hours
I try to reason with the shadows on my wall
as they morph and become outer extensions of
my thoughts shaping themselves into past lovers
or places I have been...as I look wistfully off
Into the Netherworld betwixt night and dawn.
I am humbled....and silenced into sleep