in my finest hour
the design was sour
as we prayed for lights crisp
we gave away days lifeless -
And open windows
but not a breath of a breeze
it's like everything that's left
is nothing but a tease, please
don't give away your soul or
at least earn a profit before you let go
of insight and charm
because it will become night
before she calms
the clock
the clouds
spinning across a violet skylit
by violent sirens - that watch.
Wake up.