At night, the corners of my room disappear. In their stead the ceiling [balloons up
into darkness to an uncertain infinity. Objects have no edges as [parents
snore tirelessly. Dimensions, blindness, time, and darkness stretch [on –
the limitless horizon and possibility of night. The side of my bookcase [gets lost
in the wall, books queue endlessly, mired and waiting. The floor, the [piles
of clothes, the furniture become a natural landscape. Here, in this [world, I cannot read
the words I write, text is black on black, words are but movements, [momentary, lost. Infinity
is punctuated by round holes where light once used to be.