Night never becomes any easier,
It unveils the impurity of daily thought;
Making me sad to have erred on the side of caution,
Embarrassing misplaced enthusiasm,
Laying plain the dissonance
Between thought and practice.
I do not suffer fools at night,
Rather I take them aside and do what I will,
In an empty alley way,
Dripping walls and the stench of sweat –
I will kill you in my thoughts a thousand times over!
And morning comes – I do not miss a step,
No guilt will arise from my imaginings;
Rather, I will suffer you again.