Ainmosninsomnia
Monuments of tired eyes
wall up before my face.
collapsing ranks of sane and civil thought
leave violence in their place.
Drying wells of bitter peace
keep crying for my gaze
and clamor round my clanking cell
demanding rest from days.
My visions red and gray and
seven shades of stricken screaming black.
my thoughts are kiting high and taut
stretched useless on the rack.
Why have you forsaken
and whats left for me to say
apart from turning short and faceless purpose
towards the silent withered day.
Copyright © Obi Mcgrath | Year Posted 2016
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