My eyes are sore from staring for so long,
but they won't stay closed, either...

I must be distracted currently, constantly
by some buzzing, numbing insect, or perhaps...

Just go
leave me here...

Behind a person's eyes
rests a demon or an angel...

They never feel that they can be early,
that motivation can call to them...

Lately I've been dreaming of the end of the world,
of the time when everything stops...

Author's Note: One really must read this poem out...
The wind rushes in swirling spirals...

Glistening dewdrops
Distort the golden yellow...

Under yellowed streetlights and the last vestiges...
there is little thought...

This is life?
This is crazy...

Black, silver, white,
moonlight...

The words slip and tumble down the gritty desert...
They escape the furnace's jaws and float through...