Thursday, September 14, 2017

3 AM Again

what is it about night
that makes poets out of some men
perhaps it's the darkness
or maybe its the silence
maybe night carries blades in her mouth
and a promised kiss of violence
night is an enchantress
she doesn't walk, but she floats
she whispers filth in your ears
she fills your heads with evil thoughts
and then she takes you in
head sleepy, heart seeking sin
but the distance between night and day
is already getting thin
the yellow monster on its way
you bare teeth at another day
the light is nothing else but pain
as you want for night again
but you breathe in the comfort that
somewhere it's always 3 AM

2 comments:

  1. I loved this entirely, and especially the last eight lines. Good to see someone belting out writing as religiously as you.

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    Replies
    1. :) thank you! I am glad that someone is reading!

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