goodnight words of the night

there have been many nights
in front of this
machine,
composing the
impossible words as
Brahms thundered through my walls

I have been alone,
with the music of the dead
but where
I belong

Van Gogh taught me of his struggle,
and how he never
found love,
but instead the sight
at the end of the barrel
of the gun.

and then there was
Miles Davis,
my father of music,
and of all that I know

but there have been many nights
alone,
giving you my soul
and all that I have left
to be forgotten,

in a world so
indifferent,

I write only for
myself,
and what's left
at the end
of the light