Desolate

circa 2003

Desolate walls
blank emotionless hearts
we find ourselves before our soul
bowing before the might of character
lacking existence
lacking breath of life

we have little to give since
we cannot afford to give of ourselves
for even that is borrowed
we don't think for ourselves
leaving our minds to rot in conformity
nothing we can do but wait

wait for freedom
freedom perhaps comes in dreams
and dream we know come with sleep
the deliverance of sleep comes from
the sandman and if he could only
visit me now I could be a little bit freed
and not staid on the fact that
I am living in an exhausted era with
nothing to look forward to and
nothing to look up to

alone I am standing amongst
soulless, breathless droids of inner humans
controlled by a manifest destiny
from which they can not hope to escape.