Bleak tears,

And jaundice,

The sailor is near.

The fleeting night,

And day,

In years.

A white grip,

Fathomed and tattered,

Fleeting so near.

A glimpse of hand,

In shining throne,

Fleeting so near.

For two in one,

And hands so brittle,

Fleeting is here.

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Saturday moonlit evening,

Crescent eyes in the sky,

And xenomorphic beings between.

It's cold in Appalachia,

During midnight turmoil,

Burning the midnight oil.

Solid truths,

Forgotten memories,

Ghostly in history.

Greatest world,

Held between two chopsticks,

And not mistaken for a new one.

Ghostly after image sky,

Held between my eyes,

...

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