Odd,
How such a miserable angle,
Seems to brighten up the day.
Although fatigue opts to stay,
The wispy clouds of loneliness evaporate.
Fresh air wafts in through it's place,
Drawing a bitter trail across the shades.

The clock murmurs throughout the late-night hours,
Melting all too quickly away.
Breaking the cycle of buzzing silence,
Pass cracked lips slip a whistling groan,
Mouth a barren mound of sand,
And breaths the blazing sun that ignites it beneath one's feet.