When it all turns gray
and you search in vain...

Here it comes again,
that dead wreckoning...

Birds collide with sunlight
over desert oceans...

Little blue pills
the numbness...

Nothing is as lonely as church bells echoing,
hanging hollow in the cold, gray March air...

The night air saturated with haunting music
aboriginal chants pull down the weeping moon...

Bellies smacking
rapid fire staccato...

Love is a many splintered thing,
shards shock like tiny bolts...

A nuance of silent grackles
an august phantasmagoria...

There\'s an unfeeling inside me
feels like eldritch steel...

The only reason
that I can come up with...

I sit and wait
as the hours pass...