time of death (for dickinson)

the wooden walls
can show its all
about, as midnight fails

illuminate the curtains
and lift the veils
hiding anything there thats certain

and something i cant know
even if i try to understand
im lenient to do without

cause it prevails
a light at night
where souls do wail

and mine
with eyes of tears
do bawl

the clocks that tick
strike ethereal waves
and in a sense

the time does crawl
at the end of my bed
i need this threat

i made myself
because without
i can not

trace,the things about
that i cant see
in my crystal ball

haunted steps
light glistning
except that it does leave a sting
that cannot heal
the lunging spark

and like me
it too is hidden
and spying
things that make death seem
quite timid
but no delight

and nothing i would be inviting
i call it love
that i can know
that i cant live without

when it comes in
the incessant creaking
thats seen within

that you all are hiding
pain sadness shivers
the things that one
recieves
while in the mud

the things that do
pop by when they come out
are gifts
within my heart

my pain
i do believe its sin
i do believe by 6:o clock
i do believe its dark