Observation

Against the cold and damp night,

Ghosts of past illuminations appear.

Crashing against the quiet and desolate streets,

Men run for cover under the comfort of temporary solitude,

Humming like the song bird of sunnier days.

Mother nature goes to war with furious rage

And blackens the putrid sky.

The great white hope surrenders to moral ineptitude,

While Troy burns like the starry dynamo.

The children of a promised generation fall asleep

To the chorus of sweet lullabies, while the monster of the night

Plot their demise.

Hope has shifted its fleeting disguise to the realm of unattainable

Fortitude.

The streets are ravaged with headless horsemen

Trying desperately to have their whispers acknowledged.

Divided and already conquered,

The voice of reason has no place to stand in the market place.

Delusions of a fabled legacy haunt the very nature of our existence

And the power of the corrupt few instills the façade of security.

The purity of this long journey is no longer attainable

And the poison, which brings us temporary pleasure, is the favored

Escape.

Peace lies within the deepest depths of our blackened selves,

And solitude is the key, which unlocks this dreaded fear.

In the relative unknown the brutes tremble and cast their stone,

While the outcast takes his pain with silence.

The brightest youths throw away what they have to offer

For the cheap thrills of a poor soul.

Laughter is their only anecdote for the suffering behind each and every

Mask they wear.

I pity them, for a man with a thousand faces can only offer

The drug of a junkied generation.

Lighter shades of dark illuminate the secrets behind the misty veil,

While the suns blaze covers the blemishes of tomorrow.

Sleep is a luxury these days

And only the dead get to enjoy its warm embrace.