Eyes scan the air for invisible sights,
Shapes or delusions, terrors and frights;
I throw myself to friendly shadows
Where hearts fall from their highs to lows

I stop near the bottom, near fatality,
With a waking dream of what is reality
And an only sleep-induced clarity
I've never had before

I close my eyes there and simply listen
'Til my fingers themselves figure out it's "when"
And radiate a slice of beautiful nightmares
Onto an unfeeling machine without cares

It is the isolation of a thousand galaxies
Where I am alone with my own simplicities
And all that could be leaves its hidden cave
And all that destroys, mutates itself and saves

Mirror upon mirror shatter at a constant,
Fortune, fate, and luck no longer distant;
They decide my writing is their cameo
And when my art's been written, they go

These attempts at making pictures into words
Fail on occasion, as if precedents hadn't occurred
And this was pen and paper, with a hand of green,
And I simply wrote letters with no meaning in between