Lie on covered cushions
That whisper years of dreams

Walk to odd doors
Fashioned of steel and oak
Hinges that hiss convoluted messages

Find forgotten ponds
Riddled with casual curiosity
Reflecting what is to become

Fear listless empty technicians
Doing their work in sadistic industrial boxes
Generating designer promises

Discover forgotten forests
Satiated clay bound creatures  
Splattered with red watery inks

Long for more of what
Leaves the mind’s eye in quiet confusion