Torn

In the face of the ideal impersonator, words are echos.
Sleeping pictures and scenes all alike, in a million frozen fragments.
Through the scarred palms of the leviathan, slips chaff that was once sweet breath.
A millennium passes every day, a legion of miles each step.
Mind and tears of ice evolve, to a grain of time boxed for the future.
It cowers silently in the distance, not daring to move the air.

Brain Storms

Watch them drift, sinking gently, spinning in treacherous seas. Brainstorms, thought clouds of dreams and memories.
Innocent little hopes that are dancing in the blissful whiteness. Don't reach to recover the bits and pieces.
Like the sunset that bleeds and disappears, water faded. Open your eyes, theres new hope on the wind.

Night Insanity

Alas, pleasantness, horror cavorts tonight,
Frolicking with madness through the recesses of your mind.
Beware of the acts performed within your sight,
The tyranny of images on the inside of your eyes.
By this state that you enjoy, be fooled not,
The sky falls from beneath your feet and leaves you in the dark.
Delight in the view, delight in the plot,
But slip not into the picture, lest evil win tonight.