The sour taste of
Nothing as I willed it to be
Stains my tongue,
And these happy days
Reverberate with the
Draining sorrow of the years.
Mine is the silence of tomorrow,
the slow, aching quiet
That dismembers conscious thought
And suffocates itself in tears.
A nerve fires, triggering
The slideshow of our lives
That we might see our existence
Frame by frame
and cling to the stored thoughts
We desire to keep the most.
My ears grow weary of fraudulent discourse:
Words without meaning and a specious smile.
I unhook my eyelids that I might finally close them;
Dreaming of everything,
Desiring nothing at last.