Toss and yearn

Night falls.
I... tilt.
Faceless world,
windowsills.

No one goes gentle
into the light-
less hours
of life.

The long gone joy
from such faux friends,
their shallow smiles,
moronic "Whys".

It does-does soothe
one's troubled thoughts,
so deep in silence,
devoid of time.

The blowing wind...
Hush-chill, hush-chill.
What, then, but sleep?
Though, I -- still --
am wide awake.