My eyes
Remained razor sharp
Despite the fog
The treachery of half-sleep
Among roaming shadows
I scoured with vigilance
Aware, of the restless world
My limbs fully, prepared for flight
My pulse climbed
At predawn’s haunting loom
Festering
Stout with memory
Swarmed by forgotten ghosts
They yearn
Mournfully
To dwell
In the arms of my present
Yet these eyes shall not dull
They cannot waver
Nor recede
Into a nightmare’s
Sweltering furnace
No comments:
Post a Comment