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[Colm Roe]

Love what you're doing here AT.
A few suggestions below. With a little work it'll be seriously good.

Why do I feel a closeness to the creatures              I'd remove the question...we don't know why!
that scurry between crevices
when you turn the light on?
No longer flinch at the sight of one.
Their obsession with the spaces
between seeing.                                                   Three periods in the last 4 lines makes the S lose fluidity.
The wax in the ear.

Why do I long to disappear 
like the tops of skyscrapers
in city snowstorms,
when the night sets in early
and the world forgets its own face?                         I'd remove the ? here too. 
Tucked away on the top floor,
where no one could imagine                             They could imagine, so maybe something like 'out of view, they wouldn't even know'
I existed-

-unless someone captured them
in narrow aperture.
Where the eye is drawn
to their shapeless forms, 
convinced of their maybe-movements.              Not loving 'maybe' in this line.
And why do I crawl away then?                          This line nearly finishes it well...but definitely needs an edit.

[Matty11]

You were right to ditch the questions. Do insects scurry and are their movements subtle? I didn't picture insects until your response.

Cheers

Phil

[Matty11]

Why not just say insects? Cuts down on the alliteration and anchors the write. Perhaps you could loop the ending to the beginning with some repetition.

I feel a closeness to the insects
that crawl between crevices
when the sun curves the horizon.
Their obsession with the spaces
between seeing.
The wax in the ear.

I long to disappear
like the tops of skyscrapers
in snowstorms,
when the night sets in early
and the world forgets its own face.
Tucked away on the top floor,
so that no one would imagine
I existed-

-unless someone captured
the skyline in a focused aperture,
where the eye is drawn to their
shapeless forms,
and I crawl further into crevices.

[Colm Roe]

You could drive yourself mad editing poems. I always find it easier editing other people's 
Here's another (and there are literally millions of ways to edit) way of doing it.
I've found the easiest way to edit a poem is to recite it to an audience. I have on occasion done this with treasured poems I thought were finished    When faced with the prospect of a public recital I discovered that my 'flawless' poems weren't as 'perfect' as they could be 
Anywho, I'm still loving this (your version), especially 'in narrow aperture' and 'the world forgets its own face'. 
 

I feel a closeness to them,
crawling through crevices
when the sun curves horizons,
protected in dark spaces
beyond sight,
a wax in the ear.

I long to disappear
like the tops of skyscrapers
in snowstorms,
when night sets early
and the world forgets its own face.

Tucked away on the top floor
no one could imagine
I existed, unless
captured in narrow aperture
they're drawn
to a shapeless form

retreating further 
into black.
 

[indar]

Excellent rewrite. Love the imagery--I wouldn't do another thing to it. Sometimes a poem just falls off the keyboard in perfect shape---we don't have to feel we are shirking our poetic responsibility for not editing it a gazillion times