I have a secret friend in the sunrise, as it clambers over the outstretched rooftops stringing from my windowsill, reaching out slow arms to claw crimson fingers at the heavy bags hanging under my eyes.
The sunrise and I have shared memories for a long time now, moments where we have been alone in the world together, all the pain and pettinness still slumbering about us.
And today, stoned tendrils of one too many joints still clinging to my forebrain, too wired to sleep, too frightened of some of the things that people are capable of, I am curled up in my old chair with the screw loose and the back torn off and nails jutting out at odd angles trying to think of last night, of the reveries that "Charlie's Angels" inspired in me, of the thrill that was hopping into someone else's car and zooming off for some lost movie theatre out west somewhere.
And dawn is cold today, and I would be frightened of it, but we have shared too many frosts together.
And I hope that my other fears are too small for the moments we've had.