you might as well read the phone book
but I wrote this for when you run out of pages
hail the darker waters
old nights colder daughters
fading forth in disillusioned elegance ascend
passing out of sight to minds tired eye
leaving soulprints in the wind
like frosted remnants of a bitter winters sigh
spindly fingers of a dream reaching forth
groping blindly for the sky they fell short
cascading through threads of fate it ripped a tear
spools of days lie in ashes as suns wick runs low
under grey quilts of heaven grown so threadbare
the stringless marrionete collapses into the great below
spiralling toward the placid flood lapsing the surface as consciousness stutters
fraught with rippling strands like glass shards cross the underwater
braided through dark locks of wandering hair
gone astray like black rays of jeweled pagan sun
worn sinews fabric of flesh detoriate back to dust fueling their ruling stars of wishful prayer
loosening their grip on the restless ghost from rag doll shell unspun
floating in glass depths of calm swallowing trembling eyes salt sea of care
no more to drow under grey skies suffocating in dark oceans of thin air
like holy creatures in mournful demons disguise
eternal night slips through cracking scales of the mind old dragos embracing demise
waging war on textbook realities like a childs world of pretend
sacred moment born as last drop of all the sound and fury falls from narrorators pen
basking in the stillborn sunrise
the end stands ready to begin
hail the darker waters
old nights colder daughters
fading forth in disillusioned elegance ascend
passing out of sight to minds tired eye
leaving soulprints in the wind
like frosted remnants of a bitter winters sigh
spindly fingers of a dream reaching forth
groping blindly for the sky they fell short
cascading through threads of fate it ripped a tear
spools of days lie in ashes as suns wick runs low
under grey quilts of heaven grown so threadbare
the stringless marrionete collapses into the great below
spiralling toward the placid flood lapsing the surface as consciousness stutters
fraught with rippling strands like glass shards cross the underwater
braided through dark locks of wandering hair
gone astray like black rays of jeweled pagan sun
worn sinews fabric of flesh detoriate back to dust fueling their ruling stars of wishful prayer
loosening their grip on the restless ghost from rag doll shell unspun
floating in glass depths of calm swallowing trembling eyes salt sea of care
no more to drow under grey skies suffocating in dark oceans of thin air
like holy creatures in mournful demons disguise
eternal night slips through cracking scales of the mind old dragos embracing demise
waging war on textbook realities like a childs world of pretend
sacred moment born as last drop of all the sound and fury falls from narrorators pen
basking in the stillborn sunrise
the end stands ready to begin