Mildew bruised walls
dappled spread of white
between damp
black patches
spaning cinderblocks
beneath dry-rot rafters
supporting rusted
corrugated tin roof
worn thin and
pricked with holes.
Facing me and fantasy
they transform and morph
to marble rich castle walls
draped with bold tapestries
dripping crystalline feathers
from golden vaulted ceiling.

A fool sings a bard's song.

One day, none of this will matter.
Let's make that day today.
I think of you, not your pain.
How you make me painless - loved.
Together.
How you make me fearless.
Your lips on my forehead -
I am safe.  
And we are together.
One day, none of this will matter.
That day is today.
And you are all I see.

there's a dead man who sits in the corner of the room and sings everyday
he looks kind of familiar, but I'm not sure
he looks kind of happy, kind of in love, kind of free
I watch him everyday, and listen to him sing
he ain't bad, I can tell by his smile, but he ain't good either
but he keeps on singing, Alleluia, and points at the man in the mirror.