L’Ennui de la Nuit

Somehow, it is always night,

again,

and today had the same flavor of all the ones that came before;

loneliness,

seasoned with the quiet desperation

of feeling time,

and life,

passing me by.

//

Somehow, it is always night,

again,

and I look at the same stars

through the same veined cracks

in my same dusty windows.

I stopped wishing on them

a long time ago.

//

Somehow, it is always night,

again,

and it has grown teeth;

they scrape against my neck,

un-love bites,

reminding me of what I can’t forget.

//

Somehow, it is always night,

again,

and it is my warm blanket in winter,

and the burial shroud

tangled around my ankles from a restless sleep.

//

Somehow, it is always night,

again,

and the violet, violent, half-moons under my eyes

reflect the queen of the starry skies.

//

Somehow, it is always night,

again,

and it always will be.

//

Somehow, it is always night,

again.

///