And There Lies the Sun

Tearing through the fog like a horseman, galloping into gridlock, nigh is the blackness, the fatness of hogs flying into neverland. A wing and a prayer, grab your sword if you dare because it cometh like death, the night, the fight...I close mine eyes, pray for light, but there's no rest for the wicked in a thicket of thorns thirsting for blood, I burst from the snare of the evil one's glare and am blinded in blunder...flying through the sky like Lucy with diamonds,  a heater against my feet, I look down beneath...
                                                        ....And there lies the sun.

Back Away or Bother...

Back away or bother? There lies the question, the answer  a needle in a haystack hardened like a new

.corpse in Canaan that passed into dust whilst seeking sweet forgiveness on a splinter for winter came too fast, that cold arctic blast but why must the cold caress the Crusader when hell hath no honeysuckle that sweet dripping daylight turns into darkness  thicker than clouds in a cottony candy lane like a labyrinth laid in lilies we feast on the sorrow of a thousand wrinkles in time on a dime, grey matter screams with decisions much fatter than fascination or any imagination could muster even under the  moonlight to... back away or bother.

Sleeping Man and a Corpse

“All I know is that while I’m asleep, I’m never afraid, and I have no hopes, no struggles, no glories — and bless the man who invented sleep, a cloak over all human thought, food that drives away hunger, water that banishes thirst, fire that heats up cold, chill that moderates passion, and, finally, universal currency with which all things can be bought, weight and balance that brings the shepherd and the king, the fool and the wise, to the same level. There’s only one bad thing about sleep, as far as I’ve ever heard, and that is that it resembles death, since there’s very little difference between a sleeping man and a corpse” 
― Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, Don Quijote de La Mancha