The Night and Its Everything
As though history were made late in the night, the sick laid to rest having not paid the toll to the morning.Meditation for the flesh. The calendar a barricade. A debate between old books and ideologies.To put into words is to lean on their meaning, which is why I prefer the silence of my solitude.
Longing in the night. Hatred in the night. Regret in the night. Made of these intricacies.And in the same way, both every word and every song, are made in the night.With the rising of the sun, so too are so many of my feelings erased.Hold your breath. Hold your breath.
Amidst the sleepless night, reason in and of itself. The will to die dissuaded. Night and its everything.Amidst the sleepless night, the poems of Terayama. The freedom to run away. Night and its everything.Amidst the sleepless night, the bland taste of each word. The inexperience of man. Night and its everything.Amidst the sleepless night, malice makes its return. But that’s nothing but paranoia. Night and its everything.