Stell

I haven't been sleeping.
Outside, it always seems dark.
It's the cumulative curse,
The divide I had been keeping,
Which seems to have cleared,
What's night, and what's day?
It's this detachment that I feared.

My hierarchy lives, or lies in its hearse,
But the service is set to replay.
There's no time to rehearse,
So just bury it halfway.

At any time of midnight,
The alignment seems adverse,
Maybe it's the clouds, but
I can't see the stars. Condemned,
Forever shining but from this distance,
The prejudgment cannot be stemmed,
Everything is similar, nothing so diverse,
I admire them from afar,
But aspire to be obverse,
This almost identical illumination,
Isn't better, but rather, worse,
Due to my objective expectation.

And what of these connections,
Do we determine dislocation?
Maybe everything's just sprawled,
And we think of things in reverse,
But still I'm so enthralled,
By this celestial separation.