I can tell you about tonight

I’ve got a pad and a pen
and a silence unbroken
there’s a tamed hero
this side of the mirror
and I’ve always known
there’d be nights like this
I’ve got my Tolstoi near the ironboard
and a humming sound from under the fridge
There´s plenty of ghosts roaming the kitchen
a childhood memory drowned
Kerouac’s calling
Fitzgerald pushing
A mortal game
The ghost of my father
What of me he’d make?
It hurts, truly
I can’t lie anymore
I stare down the window
The hustlers down on Hope Street
The junkies and illiterate
The drivers and the sinners
That woman walking her dog
The world is spinning
for them even
It hurts, truly
The silence, the void
My own voice betrays me
when it bounces back, unfiltered
The bookshelves and the table and the bed
My own furniture giving advice
Live or leave
but I don’t know how to
And the breathing of the walls
The longing, the painful longing
for something taken from me
There´s a plan for every creature
except for me
I’m broken, unfairly forgotten
I stopped being sad
but I cry at fierce intervals
like death upon a graveyard
Let me tell you about tonight
the meaning of tonight
I know about the blackness
surrounding the stars
My soul is empty
my heart is dry
my name is Alone.