Pale blue baleful too Mourning morning and the day begins grins at me from behind the sky slyly wryly I arise wash the sleep and my eyes blue sorrowful too and I grin from behind the mask all I ask is all there glaring at times and at times daring me to break away the day reins me in from behind the sky comes another grin a guffaw and then more than my ears care to hear.
Fear the day fear the way it captures the heart and wants you to live carry a shiv stab at it grab at its glory make a story from the fear that would trap you wrap it round your little finger **** on it and let its sweet taste linger but fear the day just the same as it plays its frames about the screen that is your eyes pale blue behind the sky we die just enough to enjoy and it's tough to live and then say, 'give me more are you waiting for an invitation do you want each day to change and for every situation to halt and arrange a moratorium?'
The crematorium will burn just as well whether we're going to Heaven or bound in chains and heading for hell this soul would do well to remember and write this in his journal. The infernal cacophony of philosophy does me no good I am the tree that cannot see but locked in a wooden embrace with a wooden face and behind the sky grins at my wonderings and I, mourning morning place my hopes on a tomorrow that does not come. For some it seems those that live and die in dreams tomorrow is a shadow in the waking of the day which in a way is what I see but what I see is not what I get the day reins me in and once again I forget the story line in time I will forget it all.