Lone soul in a collateral demolition,
less green trees and all the analogies pale,
dreams were on sale,
Whole night, He waited in long que, summoned gale.
With one missing piece of shattered mirror,
And one of moderate paper brain,
Applauded those crimson clusters,
Individual marinating at the bottom of the food chain.
Hunt for pretentious but drowsy dark,
Hidden inside, in a wrong drawer,
Like a flickering lamp post in the park,
Isolated and forgotten, no dreams no dance.
Time collapsed in a static vessel,
Ballad of monochrome treason,
Terrible tolerance of melted vision,
He grasped, He possessed, He understood the notion.