The foggy harbor buries itself into the bricks,
misty fingers make their way into thick brain threads,
causing invisible skyscrapers to erupt from natural terrain.
Lackadaisical loneliness producing nothing but infertile hands;
You are wasting the precious prayer of earths' life in your lungs,
while saltwater slips into the crevice of your sorrowful joy.
The masks begins to bleed and life carves itself into your skin.
Nothing can be done to stop this carpenter of time,
for even if mortal scalpels disguise,
the knowledge of dying will coat your soul.