Everywhere is nowhere

strange things ,
these weeds
worshipping,
upon the eerie breeze
with the moaning moon,
cursing  savage eyes,
everywhere there is
vacancy,
acceptance ,
and the night is a bitch,
disposessed filty lies
holding on tight,
when then spiders
come out to play ,
and the morning dust,
never settles
as they laugh,  
with their bellyfull of flies
and all you can do
is praise the glorious sun ,
tie your laces,
and begin a day again.