Night Lights


Dreadfully dark hours in the dead of night

Spent frozen in fear, fever, and stupor

What sights are the sort for sore eyes?

From twilight to fridge lights

The stare won’t change the strange

Or aim the aimless


Dead inside

Empty behind the eyes

Sick, sulking, soaked with sweat

Alone with the taste of regret

Stuck to my memories tongue

Our tales taste of trauma

In these twisted times

Rubbing eyes on restless nights

Staring into ourselves and the man in the ice box

Hankering hunger for something to snack on

To slowly smother this sin

To take away the focus from my blurred vision

In these dreadfully dark hours

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