Every morning I try to coax
the End Times out of a single second.

So far I've only managed to slip
between minutes lost to watching
the coffee *** fill to it's brim.

Little victories.

Fiddles played while any and all mystery
falls on bent swords,
you can hear the sadness in the notes
as they float between the oxygen molecules.

Solitude is an honest friend most days
while others it is another bent blade
awaiting my laziness.

I sleep standing up or running in place
so jokes on it.