nye

midnight shirts

are rustling

silent, whispering

in the wind

windlessly helplessly

welcoming as

dawn is

coming in

the midnight rain

is dissipating

clothless men

hung to dry

the stars

tonight are

twinkling

for tomorrows

velvet lights

solemn men are marching

how they make me yawn

preaching todays end

tommorow ending in

a yawn of sorrow

a desloate empire

yearning for

connection

burning on a pyre

midnight last night

whistling howls within the wire

taking whats already gone

perhaps some god is listening

adding today to yesterdays blistering

hollow chants continue pressing

on flat iron boards melting cloudless

thoughts the sky persisting perishing

but tommorow existing continues

burrowing answering the question

why?

and me im out my mind

busting over the load

overflowing my thoughts

out on rusted roads

but someone still

is christned

and listed in my name

i think to start again

tommorow

i hope youll do the same