Draft slips through an empty mind,
its silent solitude a burden without weight.
What will you do when the whispers in the night rise
in their ghostly, transient voices?
When they coalesce into a heavy cascade
and turn into yells, shouts then screams?
I could feel the world turning inside my mind,
day turning and then arriving
night falling and then fading.
It cycles: like living in the moment
then feeling the burden of knowledge, pressing
its claws deep into my shoulders.
When the mind is empty and the world is heavy,
silence will break into bitter gall and the
floodgate of the night will open,
its horrors cascading all over the moonlit walls.