Off the top of my head
When ever I think back all I see is dread
Mindlessly roaming the days
Passing the time as i slowly fade
Away
Into the night I dissapear
Never seen to been seen
As if I was ever seen in the first place

I kept a list of things that you dread and like
Colored the first black, the other white.

Back then, I only know one to cite
Now, it has a ninety-nine items in plain sight.

Wrote the 100th note after the talk yesterday
My name is finally on it but the color is gray.

We die before our own eyes;
Our blood paint crimson the fields
Lords left at the mercy of flies
On beds of broken swords and shattered shields.

The image of eternity before my eyes
I dread my terminal breath
The wind alone hears my aphonic cries
Of how ill-prepared I am for death.

R. A. Tyndall

I’m trying to write
Something
Something
That’s not about :
- me
- me
- me; or
- dread

I’m failing
Miserably

Spent the whole night in my head
Did a little cleaning
Perhaps I should dream instead
and stop trying to figuring out living
but my eyes get lighter with dread
If I ever sleep, please be eternal rest

2:00am
***** sheets
A locked up jaw
And dread-dried-joy