There’s stars out but no moon
the sky seems empty or lonely like
a clown funeral attended only by mimes
or cowboys and indians getting along
It sparkles but is blank like the eyes of a politician
when promising a lie during a debate discussion
that rattles and hums in the ovoid of understanding
in the lacking of angular momentum. Or like
false positive truth serum soda sliding
down your throat, the cold jizz of a deadened demented lover
It’s a curved vault of black high above me
freezing and weighing down
inaccessible and far
close oppressive as every stupid rule (and
every smart one too)
heavy, haunted
following me with cackling implications of Nothing
The End
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Early Onset of Night
Early Onset of Night 