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Night
I do this thing,
Where I refuse to sleep
So I can melt
With the fading blues and blacks
‘til the shivers of dawn.
I do this thing,
Where I stare into the Fertile Crescent
That concave
From the nape of my warm neck,
To the colds of my skull.
Swollen bulbs
Try to revive me in the Cimmerian
But I slowly watch them
Shatter in the soft black,
As I let them go.
I do this thing
Where I
Simply let
Darkness
Swallow
Me
Whole.
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