the lunatic
howling
in soliloquy
raged
antithesis dichotomy 
thought of this first person
perspective
more
numb,
idiotic intentionally and
dumb enough
to think back clocks
still winding
past, and
future
both dead, alive, and
intertwining-
oh, why, while wincing,
such whining
that timid tempest 
defied, and
defining,
lone 
standard flying
is
it echo or
some rapport responding, the
poor correspondence of
self
rippled outward, if not
eternal,
at least, this evening,
or,
is it early morn?

the pale mask refracting,
lit
surroundings to color, shy
of dawn, just
barely-
yet, more than night’s 
normal,
certain.