Do you toss and turn at night?
Yes I do but I am trying not to
Are you disturbed by the light
Yes I am but I can’t quite turn away
O nervous automaton, o fearful automaton
There is no brotherhood, there is no companionship in the dark hour
In the dark hour there is no guiding hand there is no sacred place. there’s no purpose no coincidence no lack of meaning in the dark hour

the smell of burnt hair is approaching
why don’t you think it over, clover
why don’t you go home
pious automaton does what it doesn’t want
thinks what it doesn’t think
eats what it’s meat reviles
meat’s what it’s got inside

a poem about darkness | 2022-01-09