Southern Down

Don't know why,
But heavy thru the mind,
An ankle yoke tight,
Bindin' me to blind,
To all that's sweet,
And covet'd in life,
Washed cold all over...

This winter's last harangue,
Absorb'd right thru,
Chill'd preservation not feelin' worth the due,
Don't wanna look beyond,
Don't wanna lite jus' yet,
Some mental states worth reapin',
Even dark lowly few;

The creep of lightless moments,
When agony afoot,
Serves to keep the senses churnin',
And memory imbued;

The fault in bathed luminescence,
Is blanket songs of air,
That fail the dark recesses' spark,
When light doesn't dare;

The same suddenly goes different,
And knowing takes a breath in,
To understand and cogitate yur life,
From other planes within;

So scream is but a whisper,
And despair a cold employ,
A thanks to my inheritance,
And further that it's coy.