Sometimes when you cannot hear it, The night speaks, it's voice is quiet and smooth, it sounds like why children disappear in the night, how men are found drowned in puddles of water. How you cannot hear the songs made of the screams of begging women, the purr of a cat against a fresh corpse, the drip of impure blood onto slick bathroom floors, it sounds like mysteries and misery and sometimes you will become the voice of the night, a quiet, unanswered scream for help. Therefore you will become one with me, a sob without comfort and a shriek of terror at the touch of hands. You and I are made to dance in pain with the forever screaming night.