The Morning (Night)

The night creeps in.
It doesn't bother with subtlety or slowness.  It tiptoes,but it doesn't need to.
I would open the door even for a clattering army
I let it all wash over me, arms spread eagle, face at the sky
I fall back - trampled.
Uncaring:

The blood flows.
The clock ticks.

                      i gasp for breath.

                     i cry.

Again.

i try to stand.

this time

it doesn't work

i can't.  stand.

(empty)