On Any Given Night

The view from the window
is always hell-related:
scattered house-lights,
red moon,
shadows creeping across the grass.

Demons are out there,
desires have taken shape.
The wind is in on it,
so is the shake of the trees.

It begins to rain a little:
tiny warnings on glass
softly shatter my reflection.

I am inside with the life I’ve lived.
I am out there,
at the mercy of whatever awaits.
Here, I am sole occupant.
Outside, the dark and I are interchangeable.