~ “Sigh-o-lens” ~

“How does it feel?”

Surreal...everything

Has become the sigh-o-lens

Of violins without their strings

Once taught, vibrant strands

Now limp, lifeless tangles;

Violins which sweetly soothed

Beastly Breasts of savagery

Now pause on dusty boards

And cobwebbed shelves

Like speechless bums

Sleepless on broken benches

In tattered urban parks;

All has gone surreal

Swirl-winds of muted storms

Lightning deprived of thunder

Life sequestered to endless

Sigh-o-lens.

-- Misery