When you can't go outside in the cold
Cause it hurts your bones;
And you've caused self inflicted mayhem
On every surface of your skin
When the night is your only cherished friend
It comforts your deceiving soul
And sings you a fast tempo lullaby

-Kellie A Scranton

Why are you more enchanting than The Day?
Sometimes
As my thoughts are more pronounced,
When I can hear them clearly,
Lure me into your darkness,
Sooth, blanket my mind...
Come!
Let's laugh in our own secret little joy...
Let's dance and twirl 'til the sun rises...!
then we'll drift away quietly...
to another land where nobody finds us...

She stands tall and proud, her elegant architecture that even on winter mornings warms an icy breath and sates an empty belly.

In the burst of sunlight, beyond and through the trees, she is a muffle of loud voices, calling out a name, I can't quite catch it, in the rush of a westerly wind and the swirl of Autumn leaves.

The echoes bounce off the bark, and in her resonance heralds the death knell of the light and the coming of the children of the dark.

The moon wrestles in a patchwork cloudy sky, and I the Watcher can do nothing to halt time or the tide.

Left to watch as the Belle Tower fades from sight, silently she hides in the long shadow, and like the moonlight between the trees, flickers as she slowly passes me by.

The night consumes
And from this room
I see no light

I’m so sleep deprived
Ready to cry
But tired eyes
Forgot how

The night retreated
Shadows shrink and receded
The light returns slowly

And with blues, and orange hues
The moist morning dew
The birds chirping to
My dark moods
Lessen, no lesson required
Just naturally inspired
Till I hit the pillow

A waitress takes the late night bus home,
Counts all the people on the bus but there are none.
She gets off five stops early to walk,
She hears nothing.

On the avenue a black cat chases a moth
But does not catch it.
A man throws a shoe at the cat,
Yells obscenities across the alley,
Then falls back asleep.

Lose my keys.
Lose my sleep.
Lose my thoughts.
Lose my pride.
Lose my lover.
Lose my mind.
This is a skill I've mastered.
What I am is a loser.

Trust me darling it only hurts the first time.
The pain?
You'll lose that too.

The ringing of a telephone
A simple knock when I’m alone.
Someone just calling my name
And screaming seem the same.
A loud noise when I am sleeping,
Someone throwing open my door,
A car backfiring close by home,
The sounds of steps across the floor.

These are the normal sounds
The symphony of people living.
These sounds don’t normally
Carry terror along with the giving
Like someone living in a war zone
A place with mass invading troops.
They are isolated common things
Unless they arrive in huge groups.

Yet these things still bring me
A painful pounding in my heart
And it goes on for too long
From the moment it starts.
It is the gift of abandonment
Of childhood neglect and abuse
And is viewed by most adults
As ridiculous and abstruse.

But many survivors of childhood
Of threat and pain and fear
Will tell you the horror remains
After the passage of many years.
It has to do with the inner self
Being robbed of a basic trust
Of life itself by their care givers,
By God himself, if you must.

Because there feels a solid knowing
That truly, deep inside the child
There is nobody to save them
From creatures near and wild.
Nobody will come to rescue us
When the bad things come to bite
And everybody knows they come
In the deepest part of the night.