A Night With The Endless

You float, I float
through an Eternia of clouds
the sky opens its womb
sweet caress of the night
dull my pain, so I may feel
numb my skin, so needles may pierce
the smoke that curls
mouths a haze of oval ghosts
Night, I lie, a dead stone
thrown into the depths of the lake
Where do I float to next
blood of black, it fills the horizon
Squeeze out the tears that never fall
the smoke of my fingers
embers singe every strand of hair
paper and ash
bones and dirt
Twain are the roads to the endless
---- and then someone walked in..
I tell you, there's no poetic justice in this world.. or actually, when you think about it, the only fucking thing that there is, is poetic justice.. maybe it was a good thing that someone came along because whenever I write something I can never tell if its quite good or horrendously bad.. oh who cares. Im not asking to be judged anyway.Must go up to the roof more often.