Fall is less beautiful at night

When the wind is blowing and you've forgotten your jacket and there isn't enough sunlight to illuminate the colour of the leaves and finally you see the season for what it really is
A season of death.

But we try not to think about it too much.

We are the crack pipe babies,
the suburban rats that lay in fields at 2 am.
We are the children of the night,
We smoke till we can't feel the chill of October anymore.
(we smoke till we can't feel the chill of anything anymore)
We are the boys and girls with holes in our gloves and rips in our boots and parents that swear to love us for the beautiful colours we have grown into to.
But they are colours of dried blood, and rust on metal and stained teeth.
They are the red and brown and yellow of autumn leaves.

We are the Fall.
But Fall is so much less beautiful at night.