From my window a sliver of moon casts a haze over the water. I can hear the rush of soft waves. Those creatures beneath the depths, do they sleep, dream? If parted do they grieve? Down the street I can see the lights from an all night store. A man waits behind the counter. Cautiously he slips his hand under his jacket and takes a long swig from a bottle. A group of young thugs gather outside the storefront. I imagine them harming the storekeeper. Distracted by the young whore taking shelter in a doorway they laugh and whisper. Oblivious to her vulnerability she sleeps as though she has never heard of birds of prey that swoop down with jagged talons hungry for butchery. I watch intently in case I need to call out a warning but losing interest they disappear into the dark.
Maybe nothing is real. Maybe everything I see and hear is an illusion. I lose focus on the outside world and the burn of you stings relentlessly just below the surface. I want to sleep forever, not give a damn about you.