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Night

by Jamey Williams

 

The night turns me into I am a tenebrific mess.
Transforms me into a container
For contemptment to fill with languor.

It anchors me in the middle of an ocean
Where the waves are constructed of resentment
And remnants of anger.

And isn’t the end of the day
A perfect place
For depression

To declare its despotism?
Doesn’t the moonlight make you desperate
To believe

That something so beautiful
Isn’t riddled
With countries of craters

Encompassing countries of craters?
And maybe I’m the moon.
A man who can’t help but shine

For everyone
But himself.
Or maybe I’m the moonlight.

A device used to deceive
Others into thinking I’m alright.
And maybe I’ll be better in the morning. But I doubt it.

 

Jamey L. Williams II was dubbed the nicest poet after winning the compliment death match during the 2017 National Poetry Slam. He is a teaching artist as well as a host and organizer of the Rich Oak Alchemy Slam. His ideal off days consist of thick books, loud music, and long hugs.