Sickness in a Scream.

In their eyes I have seen,
a tale of turbulence to set the scene
raw-edged and mean, they gleam,
gleam with a thousand seams
spun tightly 'round a thimble
sitting a top a finger, attached to no-thing.

And their terrors do not end,
as I sit and try to mend,
my vision tunnels in,
and I scream. at nothing.

I wake and attempt to stand,
with myself in my hand,
I am sickened with remorse
and with red on my nightstand.

There are peices on the floor,
of a person I adored
that I will worship nevermore;
nevermore.

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-*-I decided to try something new, it's a little different from my normal but I think it flows better. It's more of an Edgar Allen Poe-thing. I love that man.