In such short delay
The dewdrops of that awaited day
May appear awhile with hurried breath
for soon again they meet their death
They sway and shudder like ringing bells
Sound their pleasant tones through field and dell

Lay thy love in glossy meadow
And her eyes may drift from other shores
She may long be present here
and lands far away may be memories mere

but take this solemn note
That when dewdrops cease to ring their chimes
And breathe in shudders at their release
Cold wind will carry them far away
Love will follow- on that despairing day

And with the haste that it began
The cool ground will be cold again
Sullen desolation lures the bitter cold
Shimmering stars have ceased their glowing
As they look down with eyes of sorrow
To take away on silent tear
All that passed before me here

leaves crackle as they shift
and slide like shells across the cold ground
I think the wind is trying to speak
voice crackling in autumnal timbre

downward trickle
from mist, slowly falling down
the droplets make cool impressions
on warm skin

Sometimes when I speak
The words don't come out,
And the sounds just sort of echo in my head for a moment
Before I forget them.

Then I try and sleep, because being awake is no longer interesting.
Constant anxiety tends to make one numb.

Later on
All the things I forgot to feel
Rush in like a flood
And I go to sleep
Because the water filled my lungs.

If I wake up
And there's fog outside my window
It's no surprise at all.
Because it's hard to make out anything in fog
And if I speak
I don't know who's going to hear it.

Those minutes hours and seconds
ticking away into the ether of my mind
A canon through the fog
An anchor in the depths.
Clarity and melody and anchorage
In dissonant defiance of the foggy nothingness

The great depth of water
The rippled reflecting pool of the soul

Should time not be measured
in the breaths of air into the chest
Or footsteps down the shaded path
Or yet by the yellowing of pages on the bookshelves
petals of the flowers of recorded time

Time is not in the whirring of gears and moving of hands
It is a slow passing away
A stretching forward and backward
Shaded in fog
The formless mass bends and shifts
Like a warm undulating current

All of this I observe as I sink slowly into the depth
Falling softly like a leaf
and I release my final breath.

Something stirs in thicket dark
where tangled reaching limbs of trees are stark
against sinking sunlight bleeding red
and hasten thee quickly off to bed.

There lays a dove with eyes that weep
and voice that sings it's mourning air
of loves and sunlight fading fair
of winter's coming cold in evening fright
and all once green turned deathly white:

"Oh these passing days of little sleep
of autumn's chills from my resting keep
unceasing tension building still
between firey limbs and the snowy hill
and my heart with ice shall surely fill."

Rain
rain
rain

I close my eyes

Rain
Rain
Rain

Where do the birds fly

When the sun hides behind
The iridescent
Little drops
That hide in puddles all around

Just take my pills
200 mill-i-grams
Necromancer *******
****** labcoat pill down my throat

This experiment
An-i-ma-ted
meat on bone

Call me Lazarus
Cause I shouldn't have breath
If it weren't for the necro-chiatrist
The new god undead