The Winding Down

The eyes are too heavy
A hydraulic shade going down
Into the unknown descending
No cure for a dream

The bed is made
You sleep in it
No silver dollars
or platinum past delusions
Wake you from your slumber

The need to rest for a while
To not desecrate the shell
Deconstruction
Discontinuing the pursuit

When the eyes rise again
Like a Harvest Moon
Will you be able to wind up again
To not walk amongst the dead
But once again to run within a dream