Another night

When you get up in the night (it's presently 4.48am), and prowl around the dark house, feeling with your feet and fingers, it's always with mixed feelings. If I fell, I can't help thinking, descending the stairs without the aid of light, no one would have to know. The stairs have two windows between flights but there's very little street-lighting on that side of the house. If I fell and didn't make a terrible crash as I did I might lie here for the rest of the night, slowly but surely dying.

If I turn the toilet light on - the house where everyone goes - the back neighbours will know I'm up, surer than M will inside the house. I'd rather that be my business so I go in the dark. No difference really. Wash hands in a fuzz of night-eyes adjusting to the faint moonlight through the led-light window, one metre high.

Outside sleeps
No wind or birds yet
No neighbour buzz either,
All quiet and still, like a field.

Another night... (Central Park?)

The dark seeps in. Sat at the coffee table writing I am aware of the seeping dark. Beyond the light of the screen all is blurred black, like the black keys that ought, at night, to be white...