Saturn rising (poetry)

The midnight hour.

There is an Hour.

A Hour that crawls out from under the sun when the street lights turn on.

It calls loudly with a voice so desperate and lonely you cant help but hear.

It slinks down your street at night in the shelter of dark and knocks on the window of the room where you sleep.

Do not wake up, do not open your eyes.

Do not listen to its nonsense.

Its bitter ramblings can not be made sense of.

Do not let it catch you awake and wide eyed.

Do not let it catch you awake and alone with eyes full of tears.

It cannot help itself when it finds a soul like that.

There is no resisting that urge.

If it smells your pain and late night heart ache it will not turn away.

It will seep through the cracks and holes in your walls and it will cling to your skin.

Do not get  caught in this Hour.

It will wrap its arm around your neck and suffocate you.

It will take your sadness and in the dark it will smother you.

Nobody will hear you cry, nobody will hear you scream.

When your empty and lifeless this hour will cut you open and watch mesmerized as you bleed.

It will not say sorry.

This Hour has no remorse.

The actions of this Hour will hold no consequence and stay hidden because what happens in the dark stays unseen.

Night after night it leaves its home behind the sun and comes out to play, taunting and toying with its prey endlessly until the Hour no longer finds it fun.

Your lucky if you sleep through this Hour.

Turmoil and ruin follow in its path, and if your not careful you will get caught under its rubble.

Its better to close your eyes and sleep until the Hours past.