lucid

Dim, flickering light of yesterdays,
amiss, alone and out of the way.
Then a work of art, as if to say:
"Allay your fears, I'm here to stay."

A feverish dream. Wake up to find
a litany of "neverminds",
and sighs, and in the end
"goodbye". I'll stand to represent
the survivors, long dead inside.
Would I ever sleep again?

Don't try to commemorate;
it's a little less and much too late.
Say nothing, and everything will be
an honest, brutal summary.

this turned out much more meaningless than i thought it would be. i'm just having a lot of words pop into my head these days, not least of which because i'm trying so hard to write something else