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Night
I do this thing,
 Where I refuse to sleep
 So I can melt
 With the fading blues and blacks
 ‘til the shivers of dawn. 
 
 I do this thing,
 Where I stare into the Fertile Crescent 
 That concave 
 From the nape of my warm neck,
 To the colds of my skull. 
 Swollen bulbs
 Try to revive me in the Cimmerian 
 But I slowly watch them
 Shatter in the soft black,
 As I let them go. 
 
 I do this thing 
 Where I 
 Simply let 
 Darkness
 Swallow 
 Me 
 Whole.

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