Yet something moves

Yet something moves. Now. On this night.
Now yet.
And I stay here and i'm looking around with my eyes close, with my mouth closes.
Yet there's something in the room. I can smell it. But i dont know thing.
There's a strange need. To stay motionless, to see in to the dark, to breathe.
I cant count the minutes that I separate from the later. From next day. Another next day.
Yet it it seems a pessimistic thought but it is not. I want only to stop.
If i were a God now i would cook something.
Im angry.
But the world is already full for those stupid.
I know. I always known.