Screeching from the trenches of darkness
Horrid dreams which waken us into consciousness
They gnaw at your thoughts and emotions
Over time, shaping your very psyche
We become players in a plot
Living for that moment, caught in it
Trapped in our creative consciousness
No matter how delicious
Those few hours, late in the night
We are all the people we are not in actuality
The mind's urges, temptations, and unlimited power
Comes to life for a brief instant while to play pretend.
Erotic Politicians
The Doors
The Guru of Greatness
John Morrison
"How Do You Sleep?"
John Lennon
Pioneer of country-rock's early days
Gram Parsons
Grigori Rasputin
About Me
- Paul Delaney
- Please read and educate yourself. Remember: the library is free!
1 comment:
Ah, the night hags come to roost so late at night. Reminding me of the thoughts and desire I wish to forget.
We are all but players on this stage. Not directing but being directed by an unknown hand. To pretend otherwise is but hubris and the downfall of many a man.
Post a Comment