the dark that must relieve me

dry and parched I am,
way too long before the dark
that must relieve me

tavern lights dim out

tavern lights dim out,

quiet men take their cues and exit,

cross the night now, braves

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lifeless night, breathing,
even rain seems to take a rest
from pounding my heart

black paper sail ships

black paper sail ships,

mute tears of a winter child,

sickles hidden away.

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noises of the world

bore me, bore my troubl'd mind,

moths do please be gone.

they never let go

an army of figments grows,
gathered behind those giant nebulas
our mighty space glasses shoot.

no matter how high our science,
we still abide the call of the slime we are,
and the figments, strayed,
never to see the sun or feel a caress,
drafts on and on,
wings too tender to sustain flight,
unutterable injury and purity
looking from up high.

an army of figments grow,
so tiny they keep a garrison in my chest
and they never let go, they never let go

flat

my heart won't take another jab,
a limp balloon filled with dirty airs,
unable to float, much less
soar gracefully across the sky.