the night is empty and calm and quiet and dead and no animal or human or organism has the want or reason to fill it
  somewhere someone and something and nothing at all is dying or is dead and all the silent people and all the silent animals and all the silent organisms will do nothing to save them
  the time passes slowly at mach speed and the earth ceases to turn and the people and the animals and the organisms are crushed by the force of the lack of movement
  the sun implodes and the universe is momentarily covered in beauty and debris and particles of carcasses before there is nothing of what had and could have been
  in a different galaxy and cosmos and timeline the sun shines brightly as it was meant to with no intention to change its routine
  the people and the animals and the organisms cohabit earth peacefully having unlocked the secrets of life and death and all in between before and after
  earth turns lackadaisically and nothing and no one and no being could ever persuade or force it to stop
  the night is full and loud and boisterous and bright and alive and filled with joyful chatter and excited calls and unhurried and unworried din

  particles float in space and smash gently together and greet each other with nonexistent smiles and impossible words in unknown languages
  asteroids soar by with inaudible how do you dos and vanish before there is any answer or inquiry as to where they plan to go
  black holes swirl happily inviting all the particles and asteroids and stars and matter and antimatter and dark matter into their vapid embrace
  solar systems cry noisily as their bedtime approaches and fight against the current of time and space and emptiness and nothingness and struggle against the flow
  atoms and molecules find romance within one another and bind themselves and break apart and bind themselves and break apart and bind themselves
  the stars grow agitated and burst into dull rock and grow agitated and burst into flame until the can no longer explain their agitation and burst into nothing in an enraged fit
  just past all the things is a small planet that was in the past and has passed and will pass in the future and is passing right now
  and the night is empty and calm and quiet and dead and no animal or human or organism has the want or reason to fill it

And it is only within the peaceful times
That I realize he's my heart in hand.
Only when an unnoticed smile stretches my lips
Am I fully aware that I adore this man.

The softest of feelings accompany the lightest gazes;
The feeling of it is indescribably, cloyingly sweet.
It is a gentle breeze of passively adoring affection
It is simple silence's most lovely of treats.

A pure emotion that spirals playfully in my chest
And spreads flora and sunshine in me without rest.
Something beautifully untouched; mine in every form.
Something strikingly idyllic, impossibly beatific, and lovingly warm.

Given the world in the palm of the hand
They would not save, nor fix, but instead plan
Plan death, plan chaos, plan sweet agony
And cherish Earth's end, eyes opened wide to see.

But humans are moral beasts, how could they deign
To destroy and recreate and ruin the flow of time
For whatever ideas boredom incites they obey
To whet the hunger only chaos can truly sate?

They would insist that we are beings of madness
Would **** us all and leave the Earth ravaged.
They would shout that they are no different than us
That with just a taste of power we would do the same such.

But humanity is merciful, we would never grow so corrupt
The idea doesn't intrigue us, we've never craved to rule much
All those who disagree are the both unstable and inane
They are insanity, as known by the relatively sane.

It is essentially the worst thing I've ever felt
A deep, swirling miasma of an emotion.
It's nasty.

Abandonment doesn't suit me, I've never taken to it well.
This would be overcompensation.
Dark, infuriated overcompensation.

It's toddler-esque, I see that clearly, the feeling of
Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, m i n e
I am ashamed.

And I can put it to rhyme, oh I can explain
It's a violent beast, a stake of claim
It's an unnoticed filth on my doorstep
It's a dormant disease, unseen while it rests.

But when it awakens, good lord, when it does
It gnaws at everything, leaves nothing untouched
It burns up the foundations, the walls, the floor
For imagined slights, and leaves me thinking what for?

It's an inferno. It's dark thoughts that demand attention.
I lie and say I am fighting it; I've already let it win.
It is white and unnerving, justified in it's own existence
It is a force of it's own that defies all reason.

And I could put it to rhyme if I truly wished to
But why would I when it rips right through
Every word I've ever attempted to use
To represent it as I wish to.