Blur pedals,

In a range,

And grass to your knees.

Cows grazing by a wedding bell,

Distant and passing,

Different.

Dead mornings,

In finger nails.

Broken pedals,

Falling.

Good things,

And bound be true.

Good things,

Christmas bells.

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In too,

Beneath the guise,

A red loom bearing,

In me two fray,

In me the world is frayed,

Cold bleak iron,

Holding fate at bay.

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Flourished, and quintescence,

A ghoul to be,

And we are but the marbles in machines.

I am too the body of yore,

It was a dancing glory,

It was but another day between.

It heard in sight,

And day light being,

The crescent of a moon beam.

I am not shadow,

Nor white,

A dad in the moon beam.

It's just a saying,

The world of rapture,

And in ...

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Another day,

Dreaming,

Another waking day,

I died in my sleep last night,

Ghastly and hollow,

Forgotten dream,

I wonder how it goes,

Round and round we go,

Round and round we go,

In day dreams.

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I stare at the void,
and it back at me,
I'm glad as can be,
Because it is me,
This thing,
it's me.

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Bleak tears,

And jaundice,

The sailor is near.

The fleeting night,

And day,

In years.

A white grip,

Fathomed and tattered,

Fleeting so near.

A glimpse of hand,

In shining throne,

Fleeting so near.

For two in one,

And hands so brittle,

Fleeting is here.

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Saturday moonlit evening,

Crescent eyes in the sky,

And xenomorphic beings between.

It's cold in Appalachia,

During midnight turmoil,

Burning the midnight oil.

Solid truths,

Forgotten memories,

Ghostly in history.

Greatest world,

Held between two chopsticks,

And not mistaken for a new one.

Ghostly after image sky,

Held between my eyes,

...

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