Who's going to wake up today?
Hopefully nobody at all, but if a day does arise to the waken mind,
    what shall it possess in its shaken whine?
Will it bellow with critiques or will it stammer in interjected silence?
Hopefully nobody at all, but if a way does surprise a lake of divine,
        showering fountains of rain drops behind a smiling sun,
Strike a smile back, with closed eyes and open ears.

Time stamped nearly forgottens crammed into an envelope,
          and sealed so tight with the shut of an eye.
With my teeth bleeding,
      I had no choice but to etch at the sight of things I'd rather not have seen to begin with.
A peri-rim covers the distance through pinching of my skin,
              and a shutter runs through the crest of a wavelength I'm not quite on anymore.
A hesitant with ripening paranoia seeds within and burns at the back of my head.
            The edges narrow in as neurons shift in the spine,
and rip in a hurry.

And how do I act like it's a low hum?
Like the thriving,
   pulsing,
indignant love for you hasn't spilled over
                  and exerted itself into unnecessary acts and scattered delusions.
The relentless nag I feel for your skin to shine in my direction,
          for your smile to reflect itself my way;
                         In a joyous,
                               genuine love.
     It's not a low hum,
It pounds like the drums of a melodic euphony.

String the teeth from face onto necklace,
  for it's the last time it'll be of concern.
Backlash into a hot headed toss of the formerly important,
tokens of remembrance now, stiffly, cardboard, laid.
Untouched and unwarranted.
As the nails are pushed to the cheek,
      into the gums,
             the smile is cranked upward into place.
Pliers tasting of metallic tainted rust dig deeper into the jaw.
  Exudate flowing by the gallon.
Visage contorted to be only picturesque,
   for how dare the front line not be delighted by a delirious stag