I know this night, I know its call.
Agony wears a harpy's grin
to tempt the lungs to drown within.
The bedfellow of cortisol;
this life raft needs prescription scrawl
before we're buried in its skin.
I know this night.

A panic button protocol
shotgunned with cheap raspberry gin.
Hope: the very first deadly sin
that chokes us all against the wall
I know this night.