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Morning Sheen
Cycles of monotony
Slower than they ought to be
Passing by so sloppily
As if they pose no threat
Threat of torture, threat display
Threats of life with great decay
Threats of days with new delays
That send you back the other way
But you can home and self-indulge
Self-dilute and self-divulge
To pass the time until the crawl
That leads you back to building walls
Thus you'll stand in the pitch black
That serves as your containment sack
And keeps you bouncing off the walls
Until you feel you can't shout back
Your mouth will dry to barren cracks
Your heart may yet still be intact
But you will find it hard and fat
And you will force it somewhere flat
Until it is, you will be seen
As something clever or obscene
And you'll be rich or laid to rest
In the graves of Morning Sheen.
