Once in a Dream, there he lay in a seam.

The purr of the hammer striking the nail,

monotony in its exquisitely serene form,

Lay in a white Oven, no movement no twitching.

Consumed by a sense of death, splattered on the walls,

Motionless, a fiery dream abounding the sullen noises.

The innards screaming for aid,

The temperature rising,

through the pores of a filthy insulator.

The time is fluid, the time is stagnant

The eerie stretcher moves to and fro into the oven.

Unafraid the face that went in,

drooping shoulders, a sign to none but him.

For sorrow has a bleak place in the drought of the rushing world.

Unless, alas, a few green leaves you can flounder about.

The darkening sky light out the million stars,

Their shallow twinkling taunting the tip of the blasphemous dagger.

Cringing to the beckoning haze,

Lie the broken persevering crooked altars of the fusing tails.

Where does it seem to go?

Where does he to know ?

No lying in a crimson ditch.