• Midnight.
    Darkness and moonlight,
    Spiraling spiders are spinning webs,
    And many dreams soon swirl around;
    The otiose attempts at fantasy conjured.

    The Witching Hour
    Time creeps along.
    Those with sense sleep restless,
    While the fools are content in their wicked slumber,
    And the dreams find home in the heads of the many.

    Two A.M.
    Those still awake are probably the blessed.
    Dreams turn to sour darkness,
    Light is gone completely from the world,
    For only the breifest of time.

    Three, sweet three,
    My heart years for thee,
    And the wickedness subsides as my
    Eyes begin to slide closed
    And darkness finally takes me.