Tears at 2 AM

There is no why.  There only is.
Emotion.  Raw, uncensored, untethered.
Unadulterated tumult wreaking havoc upon our sensibilities,
evoking fat, anxious slugs to race down my cheeks,
peak on my nose and fall to their deaths, nestled in my chest.

Opaque truths turning, churning in my mind.
My tongue fumbling to form sounds out of feeling,
attempting to assign language to the chaos that is my consciousness.
But as soon as the effort is exerted, a suffocating and painful silence
blankets the world behind my eyes.

Nothing comes to surface, but the war is just beginning.
My infantry -- infantile, infinite rows of secretive explosives
excreting indignance in a vain attempt to unveil the insecurities that dare to rage on
in the fringes of my heart.  One after another, shots are fired --
fearful of the future, my lips tremble.

Once the dust settles, only inquisitions are freely fired.
Is there enough love for me?     Is it real?      Am I good enough to receive this?
Malingering in the demons, I evade the true fears that elicit these tears --

Yes there is.  Yes it is.  Yes. 
I am.