The Night

The night is my problem….

The way it empties the sound into its inevitability.
The way it writes on the walls with its shadow.

The night is my sorrow…

Fingering my loneliness with it's chill.
Tossing and turning my thoughts on the pillow with no head to pass them on.

The night is calling….
It rings and it knocks,
the eyes refusal to close;
hell of my hauntings.

The night is dreaded…

The wilting of sanity too thorns,
silently it bleeds me,
writhing and seizing…
The fits the past has born.

The night is silenced…
A heart beats away at whats torn…

Warmly it folds me,
Softly it soothes me…

My calm amid the nights storm.