I make babbling possible in sign language.
(inaniloquent)
There is a time I like to be awake for,
when night has pulled up every drawbridge to daylight
and the mind is a single mind
on the cusp of everything
and not a satellite like everything else,
all the feral atoms spinning in orbit
and the surrounding corners of the world
that give the illusion of containment,
but at the very eye of all stormy experience.
Yet on bad nights, feeling this solipsistic
only feels lonely, and suddenly
the mind being so full makes that everything else
empty. The mind seems then to exist
for the sole purpose of knowing
that there is a hollowness
in the guts of the city
and that everyone is asleep. No one is there,
except for you.
Oh, life.