Something
Something
so deep and never ending,
blanketing the sky so richly,
where at one time it was light and open
is now enveloped in isolation and seclusion,
leaving the mind to drift to places never seen.
Pictures of ships on seas of cheese,
and flowers slamdancing to a gig
seem common in these halls of emptiness.
Traveling further,
time seems to have no place.
For what is time really,
but numbers on walls or wrist.
In a land of such desolation
they have no purpose,
for as long as you are there
nothing shall change,
but the pictures in your head.
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