Sleep divides me
Among ancient ruins
Hopscotch grave stomping on my way
Merging dreams and memory
To explain just how fucked it was.

Another life from the spring before
To peel away things left for more,

Where seasons overlap
Buried beneath nostalgia…

That sweet sadness I call home.

New-found faith at the edge of the rift,
A London architects reassurance of uncertain earth
That crumbles on the way to heaven.

My first love was midnight,
The two of us children
Losing innocence again and again.

These hours of unrest
Give me back more of myself.

This understanding that I’d rather die
A romantic ideal, purging with the air
In my lungs leaving a vacant stair
To watch the rain.

This circle of existence, perpetuating passive cannibalism,
The lot of us having no choice in the matter.

Do you reckon this over-looking
A field of daisies,
Beneath a sky gone grey
As if the air had taken on color
To match wits and mock
My state of mind?

I spend so much of my time there,

A place where a concept such as emotion
Defies the laws of physics, becoming solid,
Bending light for distinction
Like a ghost collecting stardust.

These bits of consciousness amounting to
Nothing more than ripples between breaths
Until my time to rise and face
The falling sky.

In the end all that matters is where you stand,
Actions defining the soul of a man.