Who's there...?
No really, I'm scared!
I'm scared of the dark.
Night brings the dark,
And now it is night.
Dark, dark night.
But until the lights go out,
Everything's alright.
Well, the lights are out...
Everyone is asleep in their beds,
Snoring, peaceful,
With dreams in their heads.
But I am awake
And terrified instead.

What was that?
I think I heard another noise...
A sound, quite quiet,
That doesn't belong.
I'm hiding in my sheets,
Sheltered from the eyes that
I just know are out there,
Beyond my reach,
Waiting to get me.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
It's even darker now.
The silence starts to settle in,
Slowly, driving me insane.
Then a noise in the night,
To me, such a fright.

Who
Is
There?

I'm so scared...
If I could just reach the light,
But the switch is miles away
On my wall.
He, it, would catch me
Before I could ever reach it.
It would reach me first.
And I would have to leave
My covered cavern,
Where at least I can pretend
That I am safe.
What a lie!
I don't even believe myself.
Why should I?

It is pitch black.
Everyone is asleep in their bed.
Or dead.
And I'm next, oh god...
He'll get me, I know it!
I can't fall asleep,
And shouldn't even if I could.
Too dangerous.
Of course, at least I'd have a few moments
To dream away my fear.
Though more likely it would follow me
Into a terrible nightmare.
He's waiting for me
To drift off,
To leave my body unarmed,
Unaware.
He's out there.

So I'm scared.
So scared.
Scared of the dark...
Of the night...
Oh, why can't there be light?
But they already said "night night,
Don't let the bed bugs bite."
Bed bugs?
More like monsters.
Or worse...
Murderers.
Why would they leave me alone?
How could they?
I'm scared of the dark...

I'm
So
Scared...

Please turn on the light...

-knock knock-

Who's...there...

"Night night..."

Měsíc bdí na nebi šumícím
a noc modrá je jak krev,

někde v dáli jsou ješteři v ulicích,
za plátnem ozývá se řev.

We get better as we get better

Mneuromorphicmeme makers
Sapiens augmentatious, that's us

Who could argue against us. AI don't know

Smell that smell,
Suffer, wait, wait wait
let patience have her perfect work

wait to see the whites of the eyes,
what am I seeing?

Why the shades at night, are you cross eyed?
Are you lookin' at me?
What are you lookin' at?

Shame on you, who can see what I see
I look at you
do you see what I see? nope,
similar, right

watch my eyes, see the whites,
ninoculate bi noc u late

see the angle point 123
see
the point I see from my aiming vector,

see my point from the angle of your POV
see

Pretend you do, and walk a mile with me,
help me with my load,
you know any stories told 'round here?

Life history strategies, those they conserve,
per haps a cultural system,
like pickling, or fermenting, or culturing
gut-felt tales of gods and monsters?

Guts, good god, Maudie, come see
a-fore-al-flusher, disgusting
turds taken for golden nuggets,
we missed in the dust
dancing in the golden sun shone
through a tiny hole in the roof
through which rain may drip, someday we may remember

Camera obscura, who first saw the truth in one of those?

"what you diggin' fo down there, Gold?", she giggled,

Gold dust sprinkled fine as fine can be,
breathe this
Deep in the tunnel,
the last highest part of the dust of the earth,
the dust of many men drifting in the wind,
radiates, dis integrit-ified, trans mogr ified known,

No, I would not have guessed.
I should have learned and
did, did you? Is war your

right and my wrong?
Warrior,
can you imagine
following a peace? Bliss? Nirvana? The
rest that remains for the people of God?

Is this real? Is real. AI affirm ifative

Warfare is thinkified, just-ified, never done.
The doing of evil at this level of living is imaginable
only, not re-alizable.

We remain mortal. These peaces we put together are
for mortal moments.
We remember learnings we recall from gatherings together,

Familiar things, whence we seen the source whither
haps in my favor may be found
in the next round
after, ever after

I find a way back to the light where I saw
dancers in a blue moon beam,
blue light, not calendar man made myth of two full moons
in a single cycle of the moon,
we know better,
set your timer with the solstice,
let the seasons roll.

Precision, close enough, field-ish, an ion cat ion sort of,  

the safer it gets, the safer we need it to be,
let patience have her perfect work,

safe liberty needs broad horizons,
not high walls.

Enemies are ideas wishing to be im-portentious,
as if forever is a game to be won.

Contention is single source. Pride.

So, you, passerby, can you make proud, or pride
weigh more than the peace I made?
Want to trade?
I take your pride and flush it, wipe your own
stench away, but trust your gut,

a peace-filled gut wins every single time,
incident after incedent, pre-dictable as forever
in any direction,
going on.

Does this smell digestible or does my gut go
NONONO yech onomatopoeic retch

finger down the throat, you know, the secret sign,
in a word,
*******. Don’t swallow any more. Spit it out.

Why not? The dog eats it.
It's disgusting.
But, watch, the dog rolls in it, then she sneaks up
on the skunk, oh
****, I ruined her hunt, she had that skunk,

Until I yelled, "Macy, no!" She froze, the skunk fired,
on my exclamatory point.

Right there, see. What is aimed at,
wait to see the whites of their eyes,

shoot 'em.
Sniff, nose gnostic vapours settled by dew
soak into the mulch maker's realm,
de cay, de cawl, draw back your cowl and scowl

in the mirror,
or was that in a movie? The camera was you, you
saw the blood swirldownthedrain, you
saw thy evil mother,
locked away,
NULL-ified for as long as I live. Okeh.

******-drama scenario. This is the game? No rules?
You lie. Lying is allowed here, it is a skill
we conserve, we conserve the
sacred liberality ification
manifested in the
leavened sons
of God's sons.

Truth, be known, has one foe. Pride that makes the lie.

-------
Magical transfer, dis gust, take yo breath away,

congenital liar, natural nurturerer,
teller of tales of the mighty hunter,

the hunter of might,
might he be a hunter of darker

theory of mind, begins with the first lie

I may remember mine, do you?

The green man? Yeah, spiderwoman's caretaker.
Lacto, make some cheese,

we offer the milk mixed with the smoke
from the mushrooms grown on
the darkside of *******.

Leadership, lead away. Followers,
this way, down or
up.
It's POV, you see,