Child of Night

I like being awake all night like I'm a secret person not real at all child of night, known by no one living underneath the earth negative space, living like no one known by no one underneath the earth here we have our own private language secret numbers recited on a string a quiet glance revealing nothing (a secret handshake a decoder ring) bathed in the dull blue glow of monitors trading exclusive bits of nowhere sending a silent cry along the wavelength of nothing we get our quiet rewards anonymously our secret unsuspected nation, divisible, under the ground there are so many other phantoms just like me I will never know them, nor will they ever know themselves nor will I ever know myself, there are too many echoes reflections, diversions, obsessions, perversions so many distractions in the belly of the night the day is too active too busy too motioned for those of the night hibernating like me the day is too noisy with threatening emotion for those of the night sensitive as can be there are trees in the forest that are falling like madmen and there are phantoms around listening on through the night so as the world revolves there are always eyes enough to fill the dark sky with their yearning, earnest gazing though answers are few, and these questions have no end I like being awake all night like I'm a transparent person thoughts rolling clean through me that velvet darkness covering my heart completely no sunlight should now penetrate this veil and the night and I suit each other so perfectly no division, no partition, a loveless romantic tale not responsible for all that acidic sunlight bleaching everyones emotions clean and sterile not the usual child of days, instead a deep compacted mote one who can understand the lush quality of the darkness that covers the land and covers me like sweet mercy, nightly I like being awake all night like I'm a starlit person who cannot keep the day