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Apr 2013
the bones of the doors in some parallel worlds,

I take hold and swing but then they fall apart,

to fly toward dimensions I never suspected.

the leaves of the heart where you've never trespassed

fold open just like a mechanical clock,

all gears and cylinders driven by time.

it's too late when the bones disperse,

it's too late when the clocks stop talking-

caught in the wake of something immense.

help me wake up, I’ve been sleeping too long.

help me wake up, we’ve been sold for a song.
     r, K Mae, st64, Sjr1000, CA Guilfoyle and 10 others
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