On Boulevards Graves

The day comes like a brilliant god into my room of deep dreams pale shadows. On hallow thoughts, I close my eyes to the inferno of light. Into the abyss of my dreams, I dive. Unwilling to see past my second sight. I lie and reflect the sky as clouds grow on my horizons. Razors my inner plains. The son burns all my sorrows and pains away. In to his winds of grace and rage. The dark of the day asks the thunder how the moonquakes. Falling as it comes my way. I stumble out and into the ruined lands of the world, I create. In my inner mind's eye. My inner planes desolate on boulevard’s graves. I lie and dream shaking the razors from my spine. Greet the great gods of creation in the brilliant light of my rooms white and serene. I lie and dream.