Late night, early mourning… whatever.

Dark, quiet, alone.

Can’t sleep. Too much time to think, contemplate.

Nobody around, no person to talk to… express myself to the night. But the night is cold, unfeeling, unsympathetic, its embrace chilling in its embrace. The night offers no solace, no relief from the loneliness, it only mirrors the empty place inside.

Dark, black, isolated.

I seek….

Seeking warmth. A body, a soul to commune with. A lover. A companion. Someone with whom to share the little secrets I hide inside… the small niches in my soul. Little secrets such as the frightened little boy I hide within. Frightened of not being accepted, not being liked. A little boy who played by himself, who hid in books. Alone in a crowd.

All I have right now is the No-Light.

Loneliness.

The sweet diversion of sleep abandons me to the cold harsh night.

“Where is everyone” I scream with no voice, no sound.

“They sleep, the blissful sleep” says the night.

I am nothing, I am the dark, I am the night, No one sees me, no one hears me. I bear my burden, the empty place inside, alone.

How can something empty weigh to much? A weight that drags the soul ever deeper into the empty.

I will search again for sleep, search for the companions, lovers that live in my dreams. Warm dreams that I share with others. Warm dreams that know not of loneliness and despair or the painful shyness. Warm dreams where everyone has a perfect lover, companion.

Dream, perchance to sleep.

Dark, quiet, alone.

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