Midnight, not the arbitrary hour of twelve,

But that lonely time

When last, and next light

Are equally distant from me

She moves beside me

Her flesh touches mine

But, the farthest star

Is nearer to me

Than her heart, her soul,

Her mind

I get up, out of bed

And eat peanut butter

From the jar

With a spoon

I am hungry,

Though my belly is full

I am Afraid

Though nothing threatens me

Nothing is what I fear

More than anything

My secret Fantasy calls to me

Make me real,

She whispers,

Make me real

The power is within,

But it is a terrible power

To make the fantasy real

Is to destroy all reality

That has come before