The sentinels sound
Amid the call of the blood thirsty hell-hound,
The night’s warmth is gone
When the colors of the mind evaporates;
A grey stretch of eternal melancholy
Sky bound, towering above the recesses of the mind—
There is a deep static, an incoherent voice
Whispering in the depths of the heart;
But the heart and the mind lay in a disjointed cesspool
There is no way out but to sink in the ground
And then it sinks and fantasy leaves behind a hollow footprint and
A drunken head- embrace this cacophony
Naught else can be said,
Embrace this cacophony and someday perchance you will drop dead…