DEAD nite

[Vanessa Vasquez]

"The Dead Night"There I sit in the quiet darkness of it all wondering how it came to this; hearing the tiny chirps of the crickets outside the window seal and the soft midnight breeze brush against the leaves. Nothing is left but the calmness of the night; the dead calm of it all. The night sky sitting above watching, with thousands of eyes, the things we do to satisfy that moment of urge. There I sit in silent darkness with my witness above and my eyes below; there I sit to wonder how it came to this. I sit with my head hung low inside my chair whose squeaks are the only other noise to slice the dead silence of this night. I rock my chair this night like never before and for the first time, I can hear the silence of black, the calmness of night; I can feel the cold chill of darkness. Drip dripping the cold blood on my hands; trickling to the floor staining a deep red. Drip dripping the cold blood not of my own. Drip dripping this silence of night off my hands. I stare with my head hung low by the window seal at the dead calm of it all. I sit in darkness wondering how it came to this but realize the silence of my answer. Nothing is left but the calmness of this night.