To sleep -- perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
For once your life's candle is but a nub
Your fate has been decided and you cannot run
And you wonder what happened to bulletproof weeks
In your arms, just building sky-castles of words
And as you open your mouth, the raven first speaks
Telling of cabbages and kings, and gentle demon birds
Playing an asphyxiated song of angel's wings
Leaving me intoxicated and feathered with silver crowns
And as the breath from my lungs makes rings
Of vapor in the air, the mist settling on ancient frowns
The future runs through me now to capture
Absolutely clawed leviathans, found in rapture.