Misconception of time,
blinding the starving artist
until he loses his mind.

The leaves quiver on a naked branch
like a shotgun erupts an avalanche

Like speeds up to slow down
Flowers grow, and we look around-

To see the seeping paranoia soaking through
Desires with devious ends we choose.

Fighting the light behind the darkness
Sleep has no true affection to the mistress.

Frivolous souls drinking until they reach pure
oblivion
The side walk bleeds until the cement sets in.

Spoken verse offer's no meaning to
the deaf
When the blind have nothing to feel,
that is left.