Night Alone

By this hour the room has begun to glow.
Flashing with a soft vacancy
The table is set for a fiesta
A wild, spectral turbulence,
To float in from the oblivion outside.
It is at that moment, in the torment of boredom
That my mind believes them.
It chats incredibly with them,
And allows itself a bit of hollow joy
Before the guests vanish imperceptibly
Into the vacuum of my awakeness.