Against All My Odds

What is it about the lull of the night
that draws
on the Senses?

Many people say that they do their best writing after midnight. After the cacophony of the mundane has settled back into itself, then the silent tendriIs of the night will scour the scenes of your Senses.

I submit myself to them. To be ravaged for my obscenities, for my secret sermons, for my sacred medicine, to be drawn up by the night against all my odds.

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