You of the Night.
In the parking lots,
under streetlights.
Midnight confessions.
Speaking to you—
you of the night.
Ragged breath and whispers,
breath stolen away.
2 AM rages,
dark, dark, darkly
in your chemical minds.
You got to feel it now.
God to feel—
the taste of absinthe gloss,
echoes echoing,
shrill through your spine.
Phantoms peer through the alleyway,
pointing at you,
telling you you’re next.
This world of bread and circuses.
And the politicians—
entertainers distracting you,
until they suck the life out of you like bats,
draining your years,
taking your future,
just to make a metaphysical number go up.
You of the night,
screaming in the brutalist fun park,
concrete smashing against your skin.
AaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH... Rending... tearing... the bone-deep chill... it burns... they said sleep was a mercy, a lie... a howling lie... the shadows move... they crawl... AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH... the weight of ages... the hunger of the void... it aches... it cries... for the living... for the lost... for the unmade... AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH... never peace... never rest... only the gnawing... the endless gnawing... AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH... CURSED... FORSAKEN... AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH...
You of the night.
The love for euphoria.
The danger.
Got to feel it now.
Got to feel it—
before the emptiness comes for you.
Photo credit: Alex Miller
