Where do men go when they can’t sleep
Up the river to a place where time passes like dreams
Their breath slips in and out of consciousness
While their hands tremble under the new fears

Feet crack under the pressure
Through the seams seep puddles of fresh water
That washes away the hollow men that stare and linger
They sway together like a feather as it collides with the earth

Bed in hand the men lie
Clutching onto the only thing that makes it clear
Time is just a passing thought
Bones quietly melt away

Far beneath are the sounds of waves
And the rustling of leaves
The sun dances about the sky
Painting in vibrant colors every memory of their sin
This time it won’t wash away