Words.

Night Alone
The stillness falls, a methodical drip
from the kitchen sink. Night
descended without warning, no
warning.
                People trash about, walls
banging, they scream, thumping the
floor. I, alone, protected in
my room, a mighty wall I rent.

Scribbling pen I hear, whose?
Only mine. What inscribes itself
on my heart? Overwriting past
acts that sprung from my own
nature.

The disturbance bothers me not.
Other noises clamour within me.

Only on a night as lonely as this,
where the only indications of
my presence, are the lights
in this room, 
                       and a minor thought
cast at the back of my roommate’s
mind.

I see more when my eyes are closed
the darkness planning its show
a reel of the past
collages
replays
those thoughts re-lived over and over
an ecstacy overflowing
unreal questions demanding terrible answers
the pitfalls real
those inscriptions in my nature
with necessity for erasure.
Judgement calls.

They lay all strewn over my table:
A bible, a dictionary, a journal.
Mrs Dalloway.
As Clarissa passes her day
planning for her party,
I pass my night alone,
planning for my awakening.