It's late afternoon
The sky bleeds purple
As buildings claw at its fabric
December breathes coldly
And I feel them as if they are tempests
I can see every crack on the pavement
Hear the footsteps of the ebbing crowd
As if they are thunderclaps
I feel all
And they are all mine
I am awake

It's evening
Streetlamps flicker like flames
The houses are dead silent
And what my gaze befalls is my own
But I am nothing and everything
The horizon is but a blanket
Of a little piece of the universe
Sometimes it feels good to be small
So that the world will be but a giant blur
As if in a dream
I am sleeping

It's finally night
The most beautiful face of the day
For every time I close my eyes
I scatter jewels beneath my eyelids
I paint the silver crescent of the moon on the dome of my skull
And I find peace in the dark where others find fear
In the absence of heaven's eye
Angels sing me to sleep with cherubic lullabies
While my mind grasps at the vastness of the universe
And I have found the greatest escape
I am alive.

It's quiet.
This is the only happy I will ever be.