(to a friend of mine who is slowly passing from a very rare brain disorder, who's life will nver be a cake walk again...)


To the

rest of

the world,



Sunrise creeps

over the

horizon line

slowly without

purpose,



one day

the same

as the next..



but for you

no morning is a

ordinary morning,



or something

put together

as neatly as

a sailor's bed.



your dreams

lie scattered

across the

floor like

a runaway

train on

christmas morning.



no tracks.



Your train

runs mad,

in pain and

bleeding.



without a

destination.

only fractured

stops along

it's way.



and you

want to

get off

you pray

to get off,



but your  fate

is a broken

angel.



and your

tears

rainbows falling,



that only the

Gods can

see.