Hall

Underneath the corridor where sound is buried deepA clock is ever ticking with a time that doesn't keepThe rhythm like a serenade of s and o and sThe chime it tries to offer is a chorus of distress Even high above it where the crows have gone awayThe stars become the vultures and they're hungry … Continue reading Hall

Cure

Wings made out of never never flewWhere down below the fields of new elysium nobody knewAnd shadows never dappled light when seen by very fewFor seeds made out of seeming always seemed to be the dreams we never grew Arms of never ending never yearnedBelow the rigid carapace of cold where lonely summers burnedCreating a … Continue reading Cure