Just another beginning for a reflection that's out worn its welcome
Two figures walked in honesty
And i could feel deafness
Gnawing at my fingertips
If i could gnaw my fingertips

Impatient itching a growing mutiny what is left of flesh slowly,
Beaten down by an unchecked brow
If i could force a conclusion
Then i would breathe in consequence
If i could dream in consciousness

Bleached out sands, oubliettes, the endless white rooms of mansions

Tease a prayer- to forget

A thousand forms of apologies, anything to escape this fifteen minute dream.