Daylight Hours, Sadness, To Loathe

Through the frilled white drapes

Stands a cold sun, beaming its rays

Onto the linoleum floors,

Gracing over wood paneling,

Lamenting eyelids, all

Free of shadows.

Collectively they breathe

Half-heartedly with

Distant reflection

Like eyes behind mirrors,

Staring wearily at the change

They must face with time.

Ah, Spring peeling away

The dead and the dry

From Winter’s trees,

The restricting skin

Which shall release

Boy into man and

Girl into woman,

And crimson blood

Into the veins of a trunk.

He lays restless, waiting

For the dawn to end his night,

Shouting obscenely into

The darkness filled with doubt,

Filled with plight, filled with

Insane men in suede blue suits

Out to capture, out to fight.

He stares, looking for the grids

With their white, oh, so perfectly

Round centers how must

He find them again he says.

I saw hope within solitude,

I saw oceans of silence.

I stood parallel with myself

Who moaned, I like to be alone,

I like to be alone, yet

Here I stood, myself and a mirror,

Facing the error itself.

It is sunrise.