I sit here with
pen in hand as I
hear the cries of the
dead ring out from
beyond the curtained
boundries and I contemplate
my own thoughts and
emotions as they drop
from my brain sweet
as the nectar created
by the wild, naked dance
of insects that are
forever pushed into their
own maddened existance
like the millions of souls
that forever walk dead
on the streets of their
own broken torment
and I wonder what
the world would consist
of if all would awaken
as did he that created
the light growing as of
a beacon of unbridled
powerful thought that
should be voiced into
the night.