stare through eyes
with the vacancy sign
neon green
seeing nothing
of meaning in the twilight
gleam of a thousand city dreams

dream that the world isn't grimy
shut the blinds and return to sleep
where people and problems are dilute
with the ****** we call
sleeping

sweet, sickly dreams seem appealing
in that necrophileistic sensory release
way that spoiled milk spills in
poppy seed daydreams sprung into sunflowers
it makes sense since you trust me

see the lens is cloudy
and the aperture is the eye of
the hurricane in your head
so go to sleep, my love
nighttime is calling
and i've unplugged the answering machine
so your answer won't be
so mechanical
in the future

and the future in illuminated by
the light of a thousand sunny smiles
smiled because we are not in love
but we put on the best show in town
and people roll their windows down
rain, sleet, snow, or hail to hail
we the king and queen of
the nightmare we believe in
so deeply it
seeps through
staining our eyes a deeper crimson

and our son shines in the overcast sky
drowned out in a wash of blues
deeper even than the depths of the ocean
trenches we dug in our war on
love
and the idiocy
of lovers at dawn

dusk has come, and we are young and in

a deeply troubled sleep
too deep
to surface
again without our sin
subsuming
everything lovely

so, darling, sleep
and dream eternally
ugly things