Testo Staring Into Nothing

Too long secluded to the lurid state of scrutiny
Motionless though the thoughts keep pacing
Counting on fingers that hold not a clue,
Nor a hint of a distant murmur: "please let me sleep"
At nightfall it's all the same
Figures weaving flawless deceptions of slumber
Clawing at eyelids that are far from clenched
A mute room has so much to tell Behold the comfort of a haze
It's all for naught in this one