Vermillion Sting

In the blinds behind these eyes 

Shuttered in estuary'd sleep 

Prickled pines sprawl to climb 

Bursting ov hunter green. 

Oh, to dream a dream, as I too dream, 

Floating down Lethean stream, 

A new dawn approaches 

Bespoke to the encroaching 

Erasing lone thoughts of ye. 

While tucked under pillow 

Tossing and turning 

Drenched clad in crinkled sheets, 

The revolution of this world 

With revulsion it holds 

Toward the actions of what one sees. 

As the world grows cold 

More tired — more lonesome... 

Disparaged by the touch that they teach, 

Avoidance by storm from the emotions they oar 

Beached by the moored rowings that they bring. 

Swathings in slosh, paddling thoughts 

Fighting backward & forward with grief 

Coughing up loam 

Alluvius groans 

Marooned on a mind: Fatigued.