Scratches, nails to wood
upon the backs of dead...

Designed with a flame
of lusting desires...

Exhausted outlines,
dipped in dying...

Eagle's spawn like
a nightingales last...

Darkest hour
3 am...

A loner's eye can see the
ant hill...

Drifting thoughts
of velvety leaves...

I fumbled through newspapers
like a scorned lover in a panic...

At one am. I saw your eyes,
you speak in silence...

Its hard to run away
from the dark ole cloud...

A skeletal figure lingers
in the doorway of my...

It wasn't the depth
of my confession...