I have spent a decade in 2AM, dry heaving into a trash bin that also contains unnameable dried up substances. 3AM is restless sleep. she always dies at 4AM, in dreams where I learn of her death and attend her funeral. I often wonder if dreams mean something, if at 5AM, when I wake up, we can find meaning in what we so obviously suppress.
I think humans might assign meaning to time, like dreams. An alternate reality awaits anyone who is willing to think that this, is, in fact, not reality. 'This' - time - is a dream, a phantom coming to make you believe. I think about her funeral, how I held her urn in my hands. her name carved right on it, my brain remembering how to spell out her entire name. a song I like says 'nothing good happens after 2' and just like that, 2AM is killing her again.