Because Silence

by A.J. Huffman

descends with anvilled chime
of midnight, I lock my self
in a room as afraid of the light as I.
It provides temporary shelter
for my ears, embracing inability
to decipher purpose from perceived
persecution.  I tremble in emulation
of the ticking I know should be there,
compose an internal prayer that will never be
answered by any fa[u]cet
of sleep.