River with No Name

Mornings bathed in suicidal showers,
Adrift upon the bone-bending hours,
Mirror cast an impersonation of me,
Even I don’t know what I’m supposed to see.
My life is a river with no name.
Meaning in function and flow,
Rhetorical death-rattle whines the little know,
Is the appetite reconstruction or ruin,
We just feed the void with this habit of doing.
My life is a river with no name.
In silent cathedrals of hope I lay my sacred pain, Travel skies of many days;
the river pushed by the rain,
Eternity is just god blinking and the machine goes soft,
And the cell of a dream and a ghost in the flight of an angel aloft.
Deliverance of static motion,
The dead end of the unknown ocean,
Fathoms in this god guessing game,
Drowning in a river with no name.