We make up monsters and gods to explain away the things that terrify us. We cannot cope with the truth, so we lie to ourselves. We comfort ourselves by saying “It’s out of our hands.” If you explain away the darkness, you don’t have to look at it any more.

The night

Do you know

The pressing silence of the night?

That deep and lonely darkness

Where your demons hide?

The cold and clammy silence of the void

That draws you in and holds you in its grasp

Suspended in a brief and dark eternity

That bleeds into its greyer counterpart.

You deserve someone who finds your jokes as funny as you secretly do.

wisdomenlightener :

Broken

The night is dark and cold. Curtains of rain billow across the tarmac, collecting in black pools on the crumbling tarmac. The alley is strewn with broken bottles. Drunken laughter breaks across the sound of the rain for a moment, but is quickly drowned out again.

I shouldn’t be here. This is where dangerous people lurk. This is where people come when something breaks inside them. But I linger anyway, rain trickling down my face and through my clothes. I wonder whether I came here because I am a broken person.

I don’t know. Maybe we’re all broken, somehow.

Time passes.

It’s not raining any more, but the night is colder, and darker. The alleyway stinks of litter and stale alcohol. I have to go.

Time passes, regardless. The drunken laughter is back, no longer inhibited by the rain: Wild and broken. I am quietly broken with it.

Sometime later, I leave.

The night sky is dark, but you can’t see the stars without it.