I long oblivion
I crave its darkness,
I yearn a shrouded pavilion
Far from the suns hardness.
Eyes stuck with pins
Hollow with sunken appeal,
Leaden gate where it begins
To the alter of death I kneel.
I'd walk in silent pleasure
Upon silken floors,
Choosing the hidden treasure
From behind pulsating doors.
Standing in the midst of dreams
At the precipice of oblivions deep,
Life stands still it seems
As I fold into the cocoon of sleep.
Phil Hall June 2014
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