The night time aches,
Alive, and breathing in
Cold, damp air.

The window is no longer square,
No longer glass.
The whole definition of 'window'
Has changed.

Everybody sleeps.
The house breathes and
Stirs.
The lights squint and die,
Filaments tired and thinning.

Stillness inside.
Every movement is a clap of thunder.

Outside it is dark.
Everything is awake outside.

The ground starts to smile and twist.
The trees awaken and vibrancy
Echoes in the whites of my eyes.

Every detail of every split second is like a
Hundred years;
Agonizing,
Rushed and slow, all at once.

I think about you a lot.
I think about me a lot,
And them a lot.
I think about all of us.
Because we're like that.
Rushed and
Slow and
All at once.

The night is my special place.
I can think,
I can cry,
I can breathe.

Though the night time aches,
In the night I am alive.