Weary Dreamer.

Cackles erupting in the dark,
The bells ghostly chiming from the porch...
Grandfather sighing his midnight groan,
A looming shadow all alone...

Hunched in black upon his tomb of sleep,
This mourning child sobs and weeps,
Infinite reverie of a better day...
A dusk and dawn washed clean of pain.

He feels the darkness pouring down,
He takes it in without a gasping breath...
To frigid release from soul-demise,
And melancholic escape from the woes of death.

All the light purged of his spirit...
In vials of nonexistent hope,
Cleansed of every drop of warmth,
Numb in every benevolent thought.

A dying wish to live again,
Nevermore to exist within his heart.
But to lurk somewhere in the between...
All reassurance at a loss.

For his vacant eyes create abounding rivers,
Birthing oceans tainted dull and grey.
And his hands grip the sheets of life...
Left in trace of departed days.
By his mouth stretched in endless grimace,
The pity of short lasting dreams.
Behind his eyes of brokenness...

Forever stitched into their seams.