The Night It Chokes Me

The day and the night aren't so different
Preferential is the solidarity of the den
Where no light comes, no anger is spoken
NO heat permeates my uncomfortable shell
No purpose creating my lost way
Without purpose or anger the door remains locked
The light remains out
To work looking for work seems redundant and undesirable
as artistic license only merits the screaming of cartoon fiction names
overtop of distortion so loud we can only pretend it is art
The blend melded with energy and no expression is unleashed
Not because one said it so
Under lock and key in bathrobes
under wine bottles
the purpose waits, the day un-seized
a pain mounting in my knees that makes me unable to move
conscious of my every hips waver to an unsteady rhythm
and I look over my shoulder in fear of no one not looking over my shoulder back
a gun to my lips, a sadness below the breastbone, that which is winter
that which is unconscious is ever more
smoke and mirrors, smoke and spirits
the party again when silence and solitude are sought
treble is every threads enemy when the nightlife never ends, but meaning is unattainable
what does your picture look like
is the cocktail still in hand
is the leg forward in ambivalence
what does the stare say?
You can't knock me down
I'm a barking dog
Or does the stare say love me
I'll lick the hand
Or does the stare not allow a hand to be held to close to the face for fear of Yet another beating
Do I beat it out or withstand the consequences
A know it all they say
A know it all
Afraid of sleeping at night for fear a creative moment may have been lost
when creation must be sought out
seek.