My oh my dear handmaiden
The brevity of your eyes is a childish curse, but
Long is the chill of a single winter night
A basement full of taxidermed trophies
Death and dust fill flat stale air
Lying in a corner of silence
Bound in electrical tape
Gagged by a silk tie
There is no rhyme or reason
Or meaning to it all
It is the addition of numbers and variables
Multiplied by powers
Do you not understand the color of sunsets
The beauty of a passing day
Human passing is not a thing of beauty
It is a quiet tune playing on a record
The sound of cold water dripping from pipes
The feeling of sleep washing over me
With a thousand angels
Waiting to carry me on