Night on light out

Here we are, in the cold sarcophagus of midnight's arms again. Its stalagmite breath dribbling down your veins..painfully. 

Liquid nerves frozen to ashen roots, each cell a floating iceberg..and the night stretches mercilessly blurring any horizon. 

Dreams suspended in bulbous spheres, ready to spill and ooze into the darkness—threatening to coalesce with obscurity, mired with dregs of murky night; they'll recoil in action dressed in abstraction and  you'll keep wondering why?