Alive At Night

the day is trivial the night is tranquil. all critters crawl out of corners in the dark awake is being alive, solitude is harmonious. I woke my dog up, he stared up with the laziest eyes, fighting to keep them open like he might miss something. all the freaks poke around at night life is ample, even when I am alone, in a room or crowded in a bar insomnia slithers through your spine, just laying motionless. with a circus playing behind the curtain, so deceiving to be a puritan to the religion of money just give me a couch, ...maybe a few books. and paper to portray my mind