Morning Is Weary

The morning is weary my eyes speak to she
Who sleeps on the pillow where my body used to be
The terrible street sinks its claws all in to me
With persuasive dreams of rust’s discovery
Now what is this sickness that swims through my brain?
Are there bats in the tower of rats lost in the maze?
I’ve seen wandering soldiers without candles continue
Trudging the darkness which surrounds to suffocate
But just like a leaf that tumbles unseen
Slipping through the careless changing fingers of the wind
I know something brought her breathless to this sleep and to begin
Loving the scoundrel whose tall shadows on the walls are going dim
So one day he steps forward and the next he can’t speak
And the safe shield he assumed falls broken in a heap
Until there’s nothing but truth like garbage at his feet
And he must stare into the scraps and take back his courage
To scorn hesitation newly born from this doubt
To breach his own reflection and return from without
While the walls march around hanging space across her skin
Hoping for more time to erase her from him