Night is like shadows speaking nonsense, exchanging secrets
that rattle between hollowed-out bathtubs and empty beds,

like a wave of dead things and when it comes in
everything is rocking,

like paralysis, being a corpse for a few second at the most but it seems like forever in a dead body that isn't dead yet,

like waiting for what is forced on you,
like being forced to watch,

like lullabies and galaxies and stories spinning on cassettes,
memories and constellations of hypnotic trinkets,

like a room with no windows or doors or way to escape
and it's too dark to see clear or think,

like when the thought escape you, breaking away
with every blink

like a fade-out on a big screen when it i black but not yet the end,

like dreading what  you don't know
how to mend, like dreading what you don't know,
like dreading that you do,

like your night-time hours getting utterly tired of you.