THE WORLD IS WAITING FOR THE SUNRISE

Curtains pulled, lights left off,
outside only filled with dying zombies,
newspaper offers only spikes,
even when there is no storm
pollution still makes the sky brown and bleak.

Using television to keep away the night,
the heaviness doesn’t lift
because what is shows is always
artificial and surreal.

Napping silences the screams of ghosts,
but never ends the feel of their fingernails,
in all the prefab cave dwelling
keep remembering when there was a dawn
when life didn’t bring mourning in the morning.
Wandering if the bones don’t moan their complaint
out into the concrete graveyards
to see if somewhere there is a doctor
who can fix the shadows,
a healer that isn’t a vampire,
some knight not owning a switchblade
and fights invisible dragons.

Haven’t lost the vision of the day
knowing it isn’t dead,
just lost between the layers of the mind.

Before winter sets upon the spirit
with hibernating crippling to the eyes,
there lingers the trace of hope
somewhere there dwells a hand
with sunrise to restore
what cold and bitterness have taken away.





Curtains pulled, lights left off,
outside only filled with dying zombies,
newspaper offers only spikes,
even when there is no storm
pollution still makes the sky brown and bleak.

Using television to keep away the night,
the heaviness doesn’t lift
because what is shows is always
artificial and surreal.

Napping silences the screams of ghosts,
but never ends the feel of their fingernails,
in all the prefab cave dwelling
keep remembering when there was a dawn
when life didn’t bring mourning in the morning.
Wandering if the bones don’t moan their complaint
out into the concrete graveyards
to see if somewhere there is a doctor
who can fix the shadows,
a healer that isn’t a vampire,
some knight not owning a switchblade
and fights invisible dragons.

Haven’t lost the vision of the day
knowing it isn’t dead,
just lost between the layers of the mind.

Before winter sets upon the spirit
with hibernating crippling to the eyes,
there lingers the trace of hope
somewhere there dwells a hand
with sunrise to restore
what cold and bitterness have taken away.