Morning Reverie

I woke up beautiful today
In mild and pleasant hangover
I felt no pain.

I raveled with the sun in bed
In his delicate and warm embrace
I closed my eyes and looked ahead.

I dreamed of youth dining with age
As the sound of keys fell lazily
Like drops of ink upon a page.

Inside my humble box,
Raw music is delightfully baked
By chewing teeth on toast,
Which a friend has lovingly made.

Beyond the glass, out in the wild
Factories took some time to breathe
And seem to laugh just like a child.

It's such a wonderful Saturday
to be Tangled in the web of life
And let the clock wash away
The little time that we have.

If there ever was a holy war, we lost it. If there is indeed such a thing as purposeful existence, it has no place here in Leodium. This town in which life walks avidly on feet, flies frantically on wings, crawls desperately on the ground or burrows savagely through the molten rock, is but a grim shelter for our carcasses.  And this is but one of the demon cities. I am sure that somewhere there is a written account of how many there are, of how many we are...but I never gave too much importance to such things.