Night seems more alive
For there's this
Violent affair of the peace.
Cries the sky
In the heavenly wars
behind the clouds
Pink with blood.
Yet , in the bloodied massacre
Night drinks life
As the armour of the lies
Comes undone.
I lay awake ,
Each night for my
demon pays me a visit
I owe him a talk
So does he to me.
As a saint he enters
In pain
For being thrown out of heaven.
Night is alive ,
And guilty of theft ,
A callous artist of dreams.
The conflicts of my choices
Stay in my room ,
As the Demon gratified me
How an Angel couldn't.
May I not derive
Power from death
And dearth of empathy
But don't I seek
Sucking the life out
To store them in a vial
with spirits
And be the judge of their sins.
Who am I they ask
Who am I , I ask too.
But all I ascertain
That I'm the connoisseur
Of the night
Sustaining more life
Than the human kind.
The red oil in my heart
Spills each night
And I manifest my court
I sit on the throne of glass.
I am the perjure here
I am the king
And I am the jury.
And with all the unfair means
In my court , the starlight wins
Against the sun.
I see dark in these lights
And pity those who feel dead.
I see light in the dark here
And smirk with my purposes
And spread the word
How night is alive ,
Night is peace.
Nights are for the theft
An artist would do,
For the urgency
To appease the sonneteer
And for the chanteuse
To let the sky fall for her.
In the hours of the dark
When the moon skylarks
And they succumb
To the sleep of placidity
Oblivious to the carnival
Of decay in the sky.
The carnival with the war
And the war goes on
Behind the clouds.
The angels cry
and so does the demon
The satan pays the visits
And the starlight
Doesn't cease to amaze me.
In the violence of the night
Peace stays in silence
The war goes on within me
And night keeps me alive.
