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oh, turn again the dust my love
tapping like rainfall on my senses
as I imagine acid on naked flesh
dreaming of a silent scream in the night
allowing pale and faded scents to live anew
chained in this desperation for evocation
only to know nothing changes and I forget
aching to place a definition a self inside
knowing only that still, bitterness remains
none are as cruel as oneself in the silence
when the aching for the things you crave stripes you
marking your dreams with unhallowed regret
no cries of poignant memory
espousing all things with disregard
and staying alone in the midnight daydreams
hoping for a vision of hopeful peace
... like tear drops of newly turned graven soil.
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