Rope taut around the neck of peace
Pleading to rest in the witching hour
With bleeding ears, cotton casket, black air.
Praying for our savior to turn all of this
Sweat into wine.
Into the chimerical landscape of chemical mind
Within; war, famine, pestilence, death.
When cometh death?

A blink stands between asleep and awake.
A breath between alive and dead.