Breathless, contending with soft incantations, sorrowfully begging to be allowed to take their rest,
to fasten drowned butterfly lids covered with lashes filled with dead skinned dust
To glorify the film foaming from behind the eyes in which reel underneath entombed flesh,
as if trying to create a virtue within every taken step
Justifying every fickle and fear littered yawn,
as heavy blinks cause a rupture in the flawlessly molded skin around the maw
To venerate the endless curriculum of the sleepless nights of golden lamplight,
sodden eyes of the blind to live within darkness within plight
Ask the bird outside the shell of what he sees through the filtered shades drawn to a close,
a genuinely gruesome viewing of the true ****** of the situation's woes
Naught a reaction nor utterance escapes his arid desert of a throat, sickened, but wizened
as his sharp eyes catch singled beats of the struggling heart inside
A single croak of the crinkled night shares the isolation,
within the cold and dark limbs of the fractured sun shining through the skies exploitation
Sending sequined daydreams with hands that acquire hold,
and never cease to grow in checks and balances,
as the cracks on the fogged windowsill allow in the howling cold
Bleary eyes additionally crinkle with disgust at the marks written at the bottom of graphite laden pages,
with falsified make-believe and little white lies mixed with the scent of sharpened wood edges
Sentences blurring together, creativity shortening ,and discontinuity rearing its ugly head high
causes a shift in the neurological aspect of the mindset, leaving the windmill to stop its slow lilting to the left and right
Tricked into the bliss of sullen sleep, head crashing to the harsh wooden desk, lolling ever so slightly in the dream land
Where the night is swept aside with a glowing, angelic paradise, with promises of maiden's lips upon soft hands
Oh how much don't you wish for these lusting stories to be true,
\in which the bridge between reality and the dream world would intersect and begin anew
So old man, you can sit and waste away your life and check the paper work of peers
Who don't even give a **** at the thoughts that whirl through your head in rusting gears
Because they don't understand, they don't even know how it feels to wish to be freed from the flock.
How could they?